Kantönligeischt: The Spirit of the Cantons
by ConfoederatioHelvetica
Summary: Switzerland has 26 children, the cantons. Together with him they form the Swiss Confederation, and each has their own history, as unique as they are themselves. These are their tales.
1. Introduction

**Dear Readers and Reviewers,**

**The Cantons have recently become an obsession of mine, because they have so much story potential due to their, sometimes amusing, interaction with each others but also because of the extensive individual history which they possess. **

**This Series is dedicated to the latter, and I'll be using one event from the history of each canton to give them a place to show off their individuality.**

**The title, 'Kantönligeischt', or 'Spirit of the cantons' is our term for this exact individuality that makes us dislike people from other cantons so much.**

**To my Swiss readers:**

**Ich wär eui würklich dankbar wenn ihr chönnted mir es paar Vorschläg gä, zu was für Gschichte ich chönnt verzelle. Für einigi Kantön bin ich uf eui Hilf agwise. Danke viilmal für eui Underschtützig**

**Since this would be my third project running simultaneously, updates are going to be rather seldom, so I hope that you'll forgive me that.**

**I hope that, nevertheless, you'll continue to enjoy my works.**

**With best wishes,**

**Confederatio Helvetica**


	2. Geneva: The Legacy of Solferino

**Geneva, the westernmost of Switzerland's cantons. It consist largely just of the city of Geneva, and is the second largest and most international of the Swiss cities.**

**Since it lies in the western part of Switzerland, the official language of the canton is French, but there exists no love at all for the people of France.**

**The city is host to many important organizations, including the Red Cross.**

**This chapter tells of the founding of this, the largest humanitarian organization in the world.**

**But first:**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

**(Credit goes all to neva-chanluvsmonsters101 for Geneva's Marukaite Chikyuu, and for giving me the idea of making one for each canton)**

Hey, hey Papa!  
>Give me Kirsch!<br>Hey, hey Maman!  
>Hey, hey Maman!<br>The Carac that I ate before,  
>I cannot forget the taste!<p>

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!<br>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>My name is Geneva!<p>

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>Look closely, that's the Earth!<br>Might that be the Earth!  
>My name is Geneva!<p>

Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush, a wonderful world can be seen!  
>Me and my dog, we'll run around the earth! Geneva!<p>

"Hello papa! I shot France again today!"

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!<br>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>My name is Geneva!<p>

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>Start with the Earth!<br>Rather than step on the Earth!  
>My name is Geneva!<p>

Oh recipe, with a single stir, I laugh with joy!  
>(carac is the best!)<p>

Hey, hey frère! Give me wine!  
>By the way, soeur, pour some too!<br>Hey, hey grand-père! my social life is huge!  
>Hi, hi bebe! (dammit france!)<br>Bonjour, Papa, have some Kirsch too!

Hey, hey Mama!  
>Hey, hey Mama!<br>The Carac that I ate before,  
>I cannot forget the taste!<p>

Geneva! Geneva!  
>Beautiful Geneva!<p>

Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!<br>Draw a circle, that's the Earth!  
>My name is Geneva!<p>

Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush, a wonderful world can be seen!  
>Me and my family! We are the best! GENEVA!<p>

Ah, in this sleepy world is a recipe for happiness!  
>Go grab a gun! and come along! Hetalia!<p>

* * *

><p>24. June 1859, late evening<p>

The horse cart bumped across the dirt road. Four horses galloped and drew the carriage. There were two occupants, one was a man by the name of Jean-Henri Dunant, A middle- aged businessman, and the other was a young girl. She was Geneva, canton and daughter of Switzerland.

The two sat in silence as the cart rolled through the slight mist. Both of the travelers had the same destination. Dunant was the president of the Mons-Gémina Mills in Algeria, and needed water rights.

The only person to get them from was from the ruler of France himself, Napoleon III. Geneva needed to see France's boss as well, but out of diplomatic reasons. Switzerland had also charge Geneva with protecting and guiding Dunant should the need be.

"When will we be there?" Geneva asked impatiently.

"In due time, _Mademoiselle_."

Geneva was not satisfied, and stuck her head outside the window to call to the man handling the horses.

"Driver! This is taking far too long for my liking, what is deterring us?"

"_Désolé_! Ze roads in zis region are not paved, progress iz slow."

Geneva sat back in her seat, and started tapping her foot in a very fast rhythm. She was not quiet for long.

"My father trusted me with this mission, and I need hardly add that I will not allow anything to mess up this opportunity to prove myself to him."

Dunant was unconcerned.

"_Oui oui_" he said, not paying attention.

Geneva scrutinized him closely.

"You do know who my father is, _monsieur_?"

"_Naturellement_" he replied. "But 'e vill surely not make you responsible for ze roads, _non_?"

"Where the hell are we anyway?"

The driver answered.

"We just passed ze town of Solferino, _m__ademoiselle_."

"And where the hell is that? Some god-forgotten place in Italy's lands, no doubt."

"According to my sources, zis iz where Napoleon iz, zogezer with 'is army."

"Well, FINALLY!"

Dunant looked outside the window.

"_Mais …que-ce que c'est_?" he asked aloud in wonder.

"What?"

"Look!"

Geneva also looked outside the window.

They were passing a pasture, or at least what used to be a pasture. It was strewn with corpses. Men and horses lay dead and dying, amongst muskets, cannonballs, and standards.

Many of the men had grievous wounds. Decapitated, disemboweled, missing limbs, heads deformed, trampled, crushed by hooves.

Horses lay whinnying, with their guts pouring out into the blood-drenched grass. It was a field of horror, and the picture was repeated for miles and miles around.

"_Mon dieu_!"

The carriage slowed slightly.

"Vat 'appened 'ere?"

Geneva looked and saw that there were three different standards, one of the French, one of the Sardinian, and one of the Austrian army.

"It looks like Napoleon ran into Franz Joseph, we have to find him."

"But…ze vounded?"

Geneva looked at him scornfully.

"What about them? They are Austrians and Frenchmen, hardly worth any of our interest."

"Zey are 'uman beings, _m__ademoiselle_!"

"As I said, just Frenchmen and Austrians."

Dunant looked furious.

"Driver! Stop ze cart!"

The carriage slowed, and Henri got out.

"_Monsieur_! What are you doing?"

Dunant was long gone. Geneva stood around awkwardly, surveying the gruesome sight before her. She heard men screaming, pleading, and calling for their mothers, for Jesus, for God to help them. She tried not to listen, but found it extremely difficult. There must have been at least forty thousand casualties, perhaps more.

"Wait here, I need to go search for the _Monsieur_." She told the driver.

"As you demand, _m__ademoiselle_."

Geneva started walking from the road onto the battlefield, careful not step in any puddles of blood, organs, or onto corpses. She took out a handkerchief and held it in front of her nose, the smell was horrible. A mix of powder smoke, metal, human excrements and decay.

She was Geneva! Canton of Switzerland! She had a mission! She did not have to deal with this kind of thing! If Dunant wished to help the wounded, then so be it, she was not going to participate.

She started walking back to the road.

"_Mademoiselle_!"

Geneva looked around, but there was no one there.

"_Mademoiselle_…over 'ere."

She saw the source of the voice. A man was leant against the broken carriage of a cannon. He was very pale, and clutching at his stomach.

Geneva was unsure of what to do.

"_Mademoiselle_…please…'elp me…"

Geneva sighed, and then went over.

"_Oui_, what is it, _m__onsieur_?"

The man was clearly French, and an officer of the artillery, as indicated by his uniform.

He looked alarmed by her voice.

"You…you are French?" he said hopefully.

"_Non_" she replied coldly. "I am Swiss, I am _Genève_."

"Ze _Genève_?"

"Correct."

"_Mademoiselle_…I am 'onored…"

"Do not be."

"_Madmoiselle Genève_…I 'ave a family in _la France_…I would like zem to 'ave zis."

He produced a letter from the inside of his uniform, using only one hand.

"It iz my vill…and my last letter to _ma chérie_."

"I see no reason why-"

The man lifted the hand from his stomach, revealing that he had been almost gutted by a bayonet, and that his uniform and bowels were slit open.

"-you cannot deliver it yourself… _Dieu_!"

She recoiled.

"Please!" the gunner pleaded.

"Your family is of no concern to me." She said and started to walk away.

"_Mademoise_-" the man coughed and spat blood. He swallowed.

"You 'ave a family az vell… I sought zat you might understand."

Geneva stopped and turned.

"If you vere on ze edge of dying…vouldn't you vant to say one last sing to your loved ones?"

Geneva thought. She thought of her brothers, and sisters, both numerous. She did not like most of them, but if she were dying…then of course she would like to have them hear her parting words, even if it were just another opportunity to bash her brother, the canton of Vaud. She could just imagine her parting words:

_She was lying on the ground, dying._

_"V-Vaud...I have t-to tell you...s-something...mon frère..." she was saying with a trembling, feeble voice._

_Vaud was crying a little - that's his sister dying, after all._

_"What is it, ma soeur? Tell me, I am here!" _

_He takes her hand in his._

_Geneva squeezes his hand back. _

_"Mon f-frère...I...I..."_

_"I am here, I am listening! Have no fear!" _

_"I wanted to s-say... Y-you..."_

_Vaud was coming closer to hear what she was saying._

_"Ma chère soeur, speak!"_

_"Y-you suck at driving..." and she died._

Then she thought of her father, and felt a sting in her heart. She would want to talk to him before…before…

Her expression changed into sympathy.

"_Monsieur_…I would be honored to deliver this letter for you."

The soldier looked eternally grateful.

"_Merci_…Sank you a sousand times…tell my wife zat-"

He broke off and drew a rattling breath, before lying still.

Geneva clutched the envelope in her hands, looking at the deceased. A tear formed in the corner of her eye, as she realized that thousands around her did not get the same opportunity, and that thousands more were still alive.

"_Mademoiselle_!"

Geneva saw Henri Dunant sprinting towards her.

"_Mademoiselle_! We need to do somesing!"

Geneva regained her composure.

"I agree _m__onsieur_, we cannot just let these men die."

She looked around.

"There is a town near here, is there not? We can ask the people there for help. There might be a church where we can carry the wounded to."

Dunant looked astonished at her sudden change of heart, but then followed her back to the carriage.

* * *

><p><strong>And in the end it was exactly what happened. Dunant abandoned his original mission and organized the civilians, who helped carry the wounded to the church. They were treated equally, making no distinction between French and Austrian troops.<strong>

**Some time after that event, Jean-Henri Dunant wrote a book, _A Memory of Solferino_. With it, he developed the idea for a neutral organization whose sole purpose was to provide care to wounded soldiers, disregarding allegiance. Hence, on the 17 of February 1863, the Red Cross was born, and ever since, had it's seat in the city of Geneva.**

**In 1901, Jean-Henri Dunant was awarded the first ever Nobel Peace Prize for founding the international organization active in the entire world today, and initiating the Geneva Convention.**


	3. Glarus: The Last Witch

**Glarus...not a canton you hear a lot about. It's the only canton to depict a saint on their flag, Saint Fridolin to be precise. But there's one event in history which made Glarus infamous among the cantons. It was the execution of the so-called 'Last Witch'. It was this event on whose foundations I created Glarus' personality.**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

Hey hey Vater, Schokolade please.  
>Hey hey Muetter, hey hey Muetter.<br>The Schabziger that I ate a long time ago  
>I can't forget the taste of it!<p>

Draw a circle, it's the earth  
>Draw a circle, it's the earth<br>Draw a circle, it's the earth  
>My name, it's Glarus!<p>

Draw a circle, it's the earth  
>Look closely, it's the earth<br>Or maybe it's the earth?  
>My name, it's Glarus!<p>

Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush,  
>A wonderful world can be seen.<br>Cleanse the world using holy fire!  
>Purge demons!<p>

"What? England practices Sorcery? This is unacceptable! May the holy flame cleanse your soul! Burn...Burn...BUUUURN!"

Draw a circle, it's the earth  
>Draw a circle, it's the earth<br>Draw a circle it's the earth  
>My name, it's Glarus!<p>

Draw a circle, it's belief  
>Read the bible, it's belief<br>Pray all day, it's belief  
>My name, it's Glarus!<p>

Working hard from dawn to dusk  
>makes a recipe for happiness!<br>Commit sin, and you shall burn in hell!  
>Among the flames!<p>

Hey hey Brüeder, kneel down please  
>You too Schwöschter, together now<br>The lord watches us Opa, he is our shepherd.  
>Hey hey baby, (Have you been christened?)<p>

Hey hey Vater, Schokolade please  
>Hey hey Muetter<br>Hey hey Muetter  
>The Schabziger that I ate a long time ago<br>I can't forget the taste of it!

Glarus!  
>Glarus!<br>Through faith to happiness!

Draw a circle, it's the earth  
>Draw a circle, it's the earth<br>Draw a circle it's the earth  
>My name is Glarus!<p>

Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush, a divine world can be seen.  
>All witches must be burned at once! I am Glarus!<p>

Ah, in this zealous world is a recipe for happiness!  
>Confess your sins and come along! He-ta-li-a!<p>

* * *

><p>18. June 1782 Early morning<p>

The canton of Glarus was standing in the main square of the town which carried his name, his capital. The sun was not even up, and he was completely alone.

He was dressed in the simple brown robe of a Benedictine monk, his head shaved in the tonsure, and his hood up, to protect himself against the early morning chill.

There was no need for him being up this early, but he had risen before the sun because he had been looking forward to this day for months.

Not under any circumstances did he want to miss it.

Today, there was going to be an execution

And not just an execution of any kind, this was no simple thief, or even a murderer who was going to pay for his sins.

Today was the execution of a witch.

And it was going to be the first one for a very, very long time.

Anna Goeldin was the witch's name. And Glarus could not wait to see her being led, bound by her hands, up onto the scaffolding in front of him, then forced to kneel with her neck on the wooden block and her head parting company with her body.

He would if course have preferred to have her burned at the stake, her body cremated while she was still alive, to make sure that her soul was sent down into the deepest depths of hell, from where it would never rise again.

But that kind of practice was frowned upon by a large part of the population. Glarus found it disappointing; he had always liked to hear the sinners scream as the devil was purged from their bodies, as their souls were cleansed.

Glarus folded his hands, and said his early morning prayer, then reflected on how it had come to this.

Anna had been a suspicious character all her life. Her father had died early, leaving the family poor, and after being harassed by one of her mother's farmhands, young Anna went away to serve as a maid.

She then seduced a man and got pregnant; the illegitimate child did not survive birth. That was when she first caught Glarus' suspicion. He was sure that she had killed the infant.

Anna had to flee, and then eventually seduced the son of her new employer, giving birth a second time. That child did not survive for long either.

After being hired and fired for six more consecutive times, she became a maid for a very respectable family. She was fifty, and still looked like thirty, her clothing of finest quality. Pious Glarus had watched her steps carefully all the time, growing ever more wary.

That was when things became really suspicious. One morning, a daughter of the family found a needle in her bowl of milk. The mother, and secretly Glarus as well, blamed Anna, who denied her involvement.

Three more times this happened, until Anna was once again discharged, and forced to flee. Glarus had thought at the time that this was going to be the end of the spook. He was very wrong.

Soon after Anna's departure, the daughter had her first seizures. From that day on, she was constantly spitting out needles, a flow which did not seem to end, and one of her legs was paralyzed.

Glarus was now sure of what was going on. The elusive Anna Goeldin was a witch, and she had used demonic powers to curse the young girl.

Glarus took her case to court and was successful. Anna was trialled in her absence and found guilty of witchcraft.

The cursed daughter went through a world of pain, spouting needles by the hour. The best doctors were not able to help the girl, and she became a perverted sort of attraction for the people of the region.

Glarus could not stand this, something had to be done, and the witch had to be found.

He went on the hunt, and managed to track down the woman, thanks to the treason of someone she had trusted with her location. He brought her to the city, and imprisoned her there.

Glarus remembered the trial. He had watched, with the utmost satisfaction, as the witch had been brought into the courtroom.

She had been given a choice, but he knew then that they had her, for whatever she decided, she was doomed.

If she refused to heal the child, then the executioner would be fetched immidiately. If she agreed to heal her, then she admitted to having cursed her in the first place, and she would be trialled again and executed anyway.

In a pathetic attempt to save her own life, Anna had agreed to try and cure the girl. Where the best physicians had failed, she had been successful, the seizures stopped, and her leg was paralyzed no more.

Glarus remembered the sense of victory at the moment. Anna had immediately been taken captive again, and Glarus had personally interrogated her, tortured her, until she finally admitted to performing witchcraft, and laid down her testimony.

She had been taken to court once again, and condemned to death by the sword by a small majority. The sentence was to be carried out on this very day.

Glarus came out of his revelry. The sun had risen high, and the square was full of people, farmers, artisans, bankers, merchants, and soldiers. Children were running about the legs of the adults, shouting and laughing. There was an air of spectacle about. An execution always drew a crowd.

A hand laid itself on Glarus's shoulder.

"Good morning, son."

Glarus turned to see his father Switzerland standing next to him.

"Father, this is a pleasant surprise, you came."

"I heard the news and came as quickly as I could. A witch?"

Glarus frowned.

_YES! A WITCH_ He wanted to shout, but his father, progressive Switzerland, did not believe in magic.

"Not quite. She is a murderer."

"Oh really? Whom did she kill?"

"Wait and listen, father."

A large burly man stepped in top of the scaffolding, and he had with him a large, broad, two-handed sword. He was followed by an official, and two guards, holding a limp shape, clapped in irons.

"That is her?" Switzerland asked.

"It is."

"Hmm...she is startlingly beautiful."

"And seduced three men that way." Glarus responded, indignantly.

"I do not think that she had a hard time doing that."

The official unrolled a long piece of paper, and the crowd fell immediately silent.

"ANNA GOELDIN!" the man shouted, loud and clearly, over the heads of all the spectators.

"YOU HAVE BEEN TWICE FOUND GUILTY OF THE MURDER OF YOUR CHILDREN, AND OF THE ATTEMPTED MURDER OF ONE ANNA MARIA TSHUDI!"

_And Witchcraft_ Glarus thought

"YOU HAVE ADMITTED TO THESE DOINGS AND, BY THE COURT OF GLARUS, HAVE BEEN FOUND: GUILTY!"

_Of Witchcraft_ Glarus thought

"FOR THIS, YOU SHALL BE EXECUTED ON THIS DAY, THE EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE, ANNO DOMINI 1982. DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?"

Anna Goeldin remained silent.

"Witch..." Glarus muttered.

"What was that?" Switzerland asked sharply.

_Confound it__!_

"Nothing...nothing at all father, I swear!"

But Switzerland knew.

"I cannot believe this! I suspected it, but I thought you were better than this, Glarus, you did condemn her as witch!"

"But she is! The proof is irrefutable!"

Switzerland turned on his heels and pushed his way through the crowd, away from the scene.

"I do not need to see this."

"Father! Come back!" Glarus called after him, but Switzerland was gone.

Glarus cursed, and then turned to watch.

Anna was made to kneel, and her head was placed on the large slab of wood, so that she faced the people. She did not try to resist. A wise decision.

The executioner hefted the sword, and raised it high, high above his head. The sunlight glinted off the steel for a short time, and then he brought it swishing down.

Blood spurted from the decapitated corpse and the head, carried by the immense force of the sword, fell form the podium, and rolled along the floor of the square, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

People leapt out of the way as it came near them, as if scared that it would come to life and bit them.

It stopped, right at Glarus's bare feet. He looked down, and Anna's cold, lifeless eyes stared back up at him. He smiled, satisfied.

It had not been as good as an old-fashioned burning, but it did what it was supposed to. The last witch was now finally dead.

Glarus began to sing 'Ave Maria', but on the very first note, he choked. A searing pain went through his neck and he started to sputter and gag. People stared at him and shouted in alarm, backing away from the canton.

Glarus was bent double, holding his throat.

Something was forcing its way out.

He gave one last heave, and spat out into his cupped hands.

There, in his palms, covered in spit and blood, was a single, gray, metal needle.

* * *

><p><strong>Anna Goeldin was indeed the last person in Switzerland to be accused of witchcraft and executed for it. During her trial, and on official reports, the terms 'witch' and 'witchcraft' were never mentioned, but the motives for the conviction were all too clear. Today, there is a lot of scepticism on the event, and Anna was cleared of all charges, post mortem.<strong>


	4. Vaud: The Involuntary Colonist

**Vaud is a canton in south-western Switzerland, and adjoins both the canton and the lake of Geneva. The Vaudiens (people from Vaud) are not on very good terms with the Genevans themselves, and they keep insulting each other, for example, the Genevans say that the Vaudiens can't drive.**

**The way this works is that, on Swiss license plates, before the number is the abbreviation of the canton where the car was registered. The abbreviation for Vaud is 'VD' and the Genevans say that this really stands for '_V_oiture _D_angereuse', which is French for 'dangerous car' :)**

**Anyway...**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

* * *

><p>July 14. 1834, midday<p>

Vaud stood on the deck of the ship _Sully_, looking in amazement at the sight that unfolded before him. A city, larger than any city he had ever seen before. It was larger than the city of Zürich, or Geneva, or Berne, the capitals of three of his siblings. It was New York City.

He did not like it.

Vaud much preferred towns and villages to cities, and the countryside to urban areas.

He heard footfalls on the wooden deck behind him, and a man joined him by the railing.

"Vonderful..._ja_?"

His name was Johann August Suter, and he was the reason that Vaud was on this journey in the first place.

"Maybe..." Vaud said dismissively.

"A fortune can be made in ze new vorld! Just wait and see!"

Vaud was an adventurous type, but Suter was not one of his citizens, nor was this the place he would have chosen to go to.

At the moment, Vaud would have rather been at his lakeside house, with a glass of wine in one hand, and a beautiful girl in the other.

Maybe there were beautiful girls here too?

_No_, he decided, at home, they were the most stunning in the world.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to the amazing US of A! I just need your names and then you can be on your way! Hahahaha! That totally rimed! Dude, I'm a poet!" said the immigrations official.<p>

"No you're not" muttered a dishevelled-looking man in the back of the row "Shakespeare would turn over in his grave if had to listen to your garbage."

"Oh please...'o reads Shakespeare anyway...zat guy iz so out of fashion." An immigrant behind him said.

"I'll give you 'out of fashion' with my fist, you wanker!"

"Hahahaha! Chill out dudes!" the official tried to calm them.

"I like it when you all get noisy...it is fun to me."

"Ve...I want-a to see my _fratello_...he is around here-a somewhere"

The immigrations official was a bright young man with rectangular glasses, a wide grin, and a rather annoying laugh.

"So, if you would just tell me your names please..."

Suter went first.

"John Augustus Sutter"

"Occupation?"

"Eh...merchant..."

In truth, the reason Suter had to flee were the debt he had run up with his last enterprise. He was escaping from the authorities. And his family life had not been going too well either.

"And you?"

"Vaud"

"V-O" the man scribbled.

"_Excusez-moi_, that is not correct, _monsieur_."

"Huh?"

"It is _Ve-Ah-U-De_."

"Hahahahaha! That's hilarious dude! Speak English, I can't understand a word you're saying! Are you a frenchie or something?"

Vaud drew himself up indignantly.

"I am SWISS!"

This man was far too obnoxious for his taste.

"Yeah, whatever dude..."

Someone tugged at Vaud's sleeve. It was Suter.

"Please...leave him...ve should go now."

Vaud turned on his heels and stalked away.

"Enjoy your stay!" the officer called after them.

* * *

><p>And so they travelled west, into the uncharted wilderness. Over grassy plains they rode. Vaud did not mind this way of travel, but he sat in his saddle like a sack of potatoes, and his horse would often decide to disobey him. Suter had no such problems, he had gone to a military school and sat in his saddle like a general.<p>

And until now, there had been neither wine, nor pretty girls anywhere. So in short, Vaud's morale was at an all time low.

They reached the Rocky Mountains and crossed through the passes. Vaud did not mind the cold, for he was immune to freezing temperatures, but the mountains and the snow, the forests and the rivers all reminded him of his home.

They had once been feared on the whole continent, as warriors, he and his brothers of the Swiss Confederation had been unmatched. But they did have one fatal flaw.

Homesickness.

And Vaud was very much homesick indeed. The whole voyage seemed so pointless now.

A few days later they arrived at the Pacific Ocean, having travelled through the entire continent.

"Magnificent, _ja_?" Suter remarked at the sight of the sea.

Vaud was a lot less impressed.

"And all zis land! Just imagine vhat ve could build here!"

Vaud got off his horse.

"Well...we might as well get started."

"But first I must see ze governor. I need his approval to begin settling here. Zis land belongs to someone already after all."

"Shall I come with you?"

"Nein, zat von't be necessary. I'll go alone. You set up camp here, zis is vhere I vant my house to be."

And so, Suter departed for San Diego, and Vaud stayed behind.

Vaud laid down to rest under a tree while letting his horse graze. He pulled his hat deep over his face and made himself comfortable. Almost immediately however, he heard a metallic click, and a woman's stern voice.

"_Despierta_! Stand up!"

Vaud slowly got up and turned to face the source of the voice.

He stared in wonder.

She had flowing brown hair that shimmered in a thousand hues in the sunlight, and her eyes were dark, dark as richest chocolate. She wore a sandy uniform and two ammunition belts crossed over her chest.

Vaud liked what he saw. Except for the fact that she had a revolver pointed at his face.

"Who are you? And what are you doing on my lands? _Habla_! Speak or be silenced forever!"

She reminded Vaud of someone, but he couldn't quite get his finger on it.

Vaud swept the hat from his head and made a very low bow.

"_Mademoiselle_, my name is Vaud."

She was rather taken aback by his actions.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"I was exploring..."

"You don't look like an explorer."

"And what are you doing?"

"Cattle herding."

Vaud noticed the blatant lack of cows.

"That cannot be right; you are far too beautiful to be a cattle-herder."

She blushed ever so slightly.

"_B-Basta ya_! You're making me feel uncomfortable." The pistol sank down to her side.

He had her now.

* * *

><p>Vaud had been France's subordinate before joining Switzerland and becoming a canton. He had less freedom, but France taught him an awful lot.<p>

"_Remember"_ he had said once _"if you vant to make a beautiful person like you, you just need to turn up a little charm"_

"_That is all very well"_ He had replied _"Now would you stop touching me?"_

"_Ohonhonhonohon!"_

* * *

><p>"I am so sorry <em>mademoiselle<em>, but please, which angel have the heavens sent down to enlighten my life?"

She blushed more.

"I'm _México_, daughter of Spain."

"_Enchanté, mademoiselle Méxique_, what a pleasure to meet you. And what a beautiful name you have. I apologize for intruding on your lands."

"T-that's okay...they're not worth much anyway."

"You know _Méxique_...when I first embarked in this journey, I did not think that it would be worthwhile, but now I see I was wrong."

Mexico looked around at the panorama.

"The nature is beautiful,_ si_."

"My compliment was not directed at the landscape."

She giggled, then clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh...oops..."

"That was the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard in my entire life."

"You're poking fun at me, _señor._"

"Not at all, and please, call me Vaud."

"Vaud...you think so?"

"Of course! A person as beautiful as you must hear such compliments all the time!"

"That was the first one actually."

"But there are so many people here, your neighbors, for example, like that guy in the east...what is his name...? America...right."

"_América_?"

Vaud heard the anger in her voice.

"Yes, that idiot, he got my name wrong at immigration."

"_Si_...he's _un batardo_…eh...Vaud…I just wondered if…well."

"_Oui_, _Méxique_?"

"I love the way you say my name..."

"_Méxique_?" Vaud stretched the syllables, enjoying the dreamy look on Mexico's face.

"_Si_..."

"What were you saying?"

"Oh, _si_, I was just wandering where you're going to spend the night, if you had any lodgings..._una casa_... it can get quite cold when the sun is gone."

"I was planning on sleeping next to the campfire."

"Well...I was just on my way to an outpost which isn't very far from here. It's certainly better than sleeping in a field, and there's more than enough space..."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Eh..._si_, it is."

"How could I possible pass up such a generous offer? And the company would be the best I could dare to imagine."

She giggled again, but did not try to stifle it this time.

So they rode off, Mexico leading the way, and Vaud following her. He had finally come to the conclusion that there were pretty girls in other parts of the world after all.

* * *

><p>The next morning Vaud woke up, his head hurting like hell. The light form the sun blinded him, and he shielded his eyes from the glare by sticking his face into the pillow. Then after a while, the pain subsided.<p>

Vaud sat up in bed, yawned and stretched. It had been quite an evening yesterday...but he couldn't remember much of it.

Mexico had taken him to the outpost, which had turned out to be a wooden fort. She had prepared a sumptuous dinner and even opened a bottle of her wine...or something like that...'Tequila' she had called it. After that, things were blurred.

Vaud stared around the room, slowly taking up the details. He saw the bed at the other end of the room in which Mexico was supposed to sleep in.

But the bed was empty.

Where had she gone?

He was about to get up and search for her, when he felt something touch his lower back.

He leapt up from the bed, and turned to stare in horror as he saw what it was.

It was a hand.

Attached to an arm.

An arm which belonged to Mexico.

She was in his bed.

And she was naked.

Vaud panicked.

What had happened last night? Why couldn't he remember? What was he doing in his bed? Why was she naked?

Then Vaud realized what must have happened.

He began to dress as quickly as he could, then ran outside into the yard with only half his clothes on. He jumped onto the horse, and galloped away as fast as he could.

* * *

><p>Mexico opened her eyes. She thought she had heard the sound of hooves, and that was what had woken her.<p>

"Vaud?"

But the place beside her, where Vaud had lain, was empty.

* * *

><p>Vaud rode as fast as he could. His destination: the spot where Suter had left him. Surely he would know if something had happened.<p>

Vaud saw Suter from afar. He was making breakfast in a cast-iron skillet over an open fire.

"_Monsieur_!" Vaud called out "_Monsieur_!"

Suter looked up, surprise forming on his face.

"Where ze hell have you been? I sought zat you might have been captured by Indians!"

"Never mind that, what happened?"

"I have good news!"

Vaud looked relieved.

"Really?"

"_Ja_! I have ze permits! Ve can build a colony here!"

Vaud's heart stopped. So it was true, it had happened. A colony had been conceived.

"Ze first settlers should arrive zis evening!"

Vaud slowly turned his horse eastwards and trotted away.

"Vhere are you going?" Suter called after him.

"Home" Vaud replied sullenly.

* * *

><p>"Please tell me more mama!" the little girl pleaded.<p>

"_Lo siento hija_, that's all I know about your _padre_" her mother replied.

"Mama...why did papa leave us?"

Mexico was pained at the memory.

"I think he was afraid."

"Did he not love us anymore?"

"Yes...he did love us, very much so, and one day he will return, and we'll be a big happy _familia_."

"And he will bring _abuelo Suiza_ with him, and all _mis tias_ and _tios_."

"That's right. Now it's bedtime for you."

"_Bueno_"

The girl slipped under the covers.

"Now, what do you want to become when you're older?"

"A country! Just like you mama!"

"And one day you will be. _Buenas Noches hija_."

Mexico left the bedroom and shut the door quietly.

Suter was standing there, he had evidently been waiting.

"How is she?" he asked, concerned.

"Fine. She'll get by, and with you as her boss, Captain, she will grow fast."

"Have you decided on a name for her yet?"

Mexico reflected for a moment.

"_Si_...I have."

She opened the door just a crack, and stared at the young colony, curled up and sleeping peacefully.

"_Nueva Helvecia_" she whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>The (unofficial) Swiss-Mexican colony 'New Helvetia' flourished under the government, or rather rule, of Captain John Augustus Sutter. Misfortune befell Sutter's utopia however, when gold was discovered on his lands.<strong>

**This started the great California Gold rush and hordes of diggers came and destroyed the farmlands and pastures in search of the valuable metal.**

**Sutter died poor, trying to get a monetary compensation from the US government for the damage done to his property. His son, John August Sutter Jr. was more successful and became a consul of the US in Acapulco.**

**Of the colony, not much remain today, nothing except Sutter's fort and a reconstructed sawmill, but the name of the man who populated California would not be forgotten by historians.**

**It is also this way that Switzerland gained his only, if illegitimate, granddaughter.**


	5. Schwyz: The Revolution

**Schwyz is a canton in central Switzerland and was one of the original trio**** of cantons that founded the country in 1291. The people of Schwyz were very active in all of Europe, and ended up giving Switzerland its name as a result. **

**The reason why they were so spre****ad out on the continent was because of their battle prowess and the general belief that Swiss troops of the time were all but invincible.**

**However, the mercenaries served the countries' kings and emperors, even though it was contrary to their belief in freedom and independence.**

**Sometimes of course, they ended up on the wrong****, meaning loosing, side, as it happened during the French Revolution. **

**INTRO MUSIC!**

**Hey hey Vater, Kirsch it shall be!  
><strong>**Hey hey Muetter, hey hey Muetter!  
><strong>**The Älplermagrone that I ate before  
><strong>**I can't forget that taste of them!**

**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Schwyz is my name!**

**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Look closely, it's the earth  
><strong>**Or maybe it's the earth?  
><strong>**Schwyz is my name!**

**Ah, with just one stroke of paint,  
><strong>**A wonderful world can be seen  
><strong>**I am my father's eldest son,  
><strong>**And his most belov'd.**

**"Enough talk! Draw your sword if you have honor, and let us solve this dispute with our blades!"**

**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Schwyz is my name!**

**Draw a circle, it's honor  
><strong>**Standing firmly, it's honor  
><strong>**Never retreating, it's honor  
><strong>**Schwyz is my name!**

**Training combat all your life  
><strong>**Makes a recipe for happiness  
><strong>**Protecting my family from evil  
><strong>**Is also just!**

**Hey hey Brüeder, I'm catholic you see  
><strong>**Hey hey Schwöschter, the pope enlisted me  
><strong>**It's fine Grossvater, I get paid  
><strong>**Isn't that right? Handsomely so!**

**Hey hey Vater, in your scabbard  
><strong>**Hey hey Muetter, the blade must be sharp!  
><strong>**The Älplermagrone that I ate a long time ago  
><strong>**I can't forget the taste of them**

**A call to arms!  
><strong>**A call to arms!  
>For justice and liberty!<strong>

**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Draw a circle, it's the earth  
><strong>**Schwyz is my name!**

**Ah, with just one stroke of paint,  
><strong>**A wonderful world can be seen  
><strong>**As a fighter I'm unmatched! Invincible!**

**Ah, in this honorable world  
><strong>**Is a recipe for happiness  
><strong>**Sharpen your blade and come along!  
><strong>**Hetalia!**

* * *

><p>10. August 1792, morning<p>

Schwyz and his father Switzerland were facing each other, trying to stare each other down and thinking hard what their next move was going to be.

Schwyz was winning slightly but he was sweating heavily from all the effort. And Switzerland was gaining fast.

They were surrounded by a large mob of Swiss Guards, all infantry, and the atmosphere was tense. Father against son, Mentor against student. Who would win? Switzerland was more experienced no doubt, but Schwyz might just be able to beat him if he concentrated hard.

A bead of sweat pearled down Schwyz's cheek as he decided on his attack.

He slammed the card down on the wooden table.

"Nine of acorns"

They were playing cards in the large guard room at the Tuileries palace. It was the residence of France's boss, Louis the sixteenth.

The game which Schwyz was playing against his father was 'Tschau-Sepp' a game from their homeland in which the object was to get rid of all your cards by making wise choices about when to put them down.

So far, Schwyz had won most of the games, and the money was piling on his side. This was the final round, the all-in. If he won, he would win everything.

Schwyz had two cards left, his father three. He could win this, he knew it, but his father was crafty.

"Your move, Vater" Schwyz said, calmly.

Switzerland took one look at his cards and shook his head.

"I cannot."

He sighed and picked up another card from the large pile beside them. He raised an eyebrow. What did this mean?

Switzerland did not lay down a card, so Schwyz continued

"King of Acorns, Tschau" he said. One card left.

Switzerland examined the card on the table closely.

"You know son...that king has a beard almost as magnificent as yours."

The soldiers laughed, and the tension broke, while Schwyz stroked the few chin-hairs the he was growing. He wanted them to become longer so he might finally look more like an adult.

"Can you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Switzerland put down a card on top of the King of acorns.

Schwyz's heart skipped a beat. It was a peasant of bells. Switzerland could now wish for any of the four colors to be laid down. Schwyz looked at his last card, a banner of roses. There was a one in four chance that Switzerland was going to pick roses as his color.

Switzerland gave a thoughtful glance in Schwyz's direction.

"I wish for..."

Schwyz tensed.

"...shields"

_Damn!_

Schwyz didn't move, and a broad smile spread across his father's face. But why? He still had two more cards to lay down, one more opportunity for Schwyz to win...unless...

Switzerland laid down his second to last card.

"Tschau" he said. An ace of shields. Schwyz groaned. Switzerland could now lay down another card of the same color on top of it without waiting for Schwyz to take his turn.

Switzerland put down his last card, banner of shields.

"Sepp"

Switzerland had won.

The guards began to clap, and Switzerland stood up to give everyone a mock bow, and shovelled the gold towards him with his hands.

"All the money belongs to me now! Switzerland takes all! Oh wait...it does not matter, it all goes to Zürich anyway!"

The guards laughed again. Indeed, all their profits went straight to the national treasury of which Zürich was in charge of.

After the applause had settled down and people began to leave, Schwyz approached his father.

"But how could you win? I had you!"

Switzerland gave his oldest son a very knowing look.

"Peasant beats King, my son; you should know that by now."

"Then...why are we serving a monarch?"

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, staring from Schwyz, to Switzerland. Switzerland suddenly looked very serious.

"Because he pays us to." Switzerland rolled a gold coin across the wooden table. It fell down face-up in front of Schwyz. The king's head was stamped into the precious metal.

Schwyz looked thoughtful.

"But why serve him; we can be of more use at home, surely?"

"Schwyz, how many sons does a farmer normally have?"

Schwyz looked surprised at the question.

"Eh...four or five is my best guess."

"Correct. Now, after the farmer dies, how many of those sons will take over the farm?"

"Exactly one, the oldest."

"Right again. But what do the other sons do?" Switzerland turned to the guards.

"Which one of you men here is an oldest son?"

No one raised their hand, or said anything.

"If I had a farm, then you would not be here, my oldest child, do you understand, now?"

"Yes Vater."

"All that remains for these men to do is sell the only thing they have left in order to make a decent living; their service. And we do get paid handsomely, do we not?"

As shout of assent came from the guards.

"Right" Switzerland said "Assume your posts."

The men all left, Switzerland and Schwyz with them. They went out into the extensive royal garden of the palace. A magnificent monument to absolutistic rule, and rule that was all but abolished, for the revolution had come to France.

"Vater" Schwyz said, concerned "How long will our employments last?"

"For as long as the king has paid us."

"And that is?"

"Six more months"

"Forgive me for questioning your morals Vater, but is it not unwise of us to stay here?"

"We have been paid to guard the king, and so we shall, even though he is a prisoner in his own castle."

The citizens of the cities had risen up against the royal family, and in demand for more rights, had founded their own government, taking all power from the king.

Louis XVI sensed the change in mood and feared for his life. He fled, intending to go to the court of another monarch. He was however caught, and sent back to Paris and placed under house arrest.

"So we stay?"

"Correct."

"I am very uneasy about this decision, just yesterday, three hundred of the guard were commanded to the Normandy, and I cannot help but think that it was a ruse to weaken the Kings guard."

"It probably was."

"And the fact that we were only handed thirty rounds of ammunition! Do not expect me to swallow the _scheiss_ about not having enough in store!"

"Schwyz, my decision stands; we remain here, at our post, until the contract runs out, come what will!"

As if on cue, a page suddenly appeared, running frantically towards the two.

"_Sire_!" He called "_Sire_! _Attendez_!"

Switzerland and Schwyz stopped and turned around to look at the new arrival. The page stopped short, panting and holding up an envelope.

"_Oui_?" Switzerland said "What do you want?"

"A message, sire, from ze royal guard, _très_ important!"

Switzerland took the letter from him and opened the seal. His face darkened with distaste.

"Vater?" Schwyz asked tentatively "What is it?"

Switzerland crumpled up the parchment.

"It has begun..." he threw the letter onto the ground and addressed the page.

"_Monsieur_, I suggest you get out of here, you do not want to be caught in the middle of this."

The man bowed, and then ran off as fast as he could toward the palace gates.

"Vater! What is happening?"

"The Parisians are revolting. I have received word that around a hundred thousand are on their way here."

Schwyz knew that this was it. They were going to leave.

"Son, I want you to..."

To pack! They were returning to their homelands! Schwyz could already see the mountains and lakes, feel the cool wind, smell the grass and the cows and the choc-

"...assemble the troops"

"Eh...what?"

"You heard me!"

"B-b-b-but Vater!"

"None of that now, Schwyz! Do as I say!"

* * *

><p>Within the hour, the whole remaining portion of the Swiss Guard had assembled in the courtyard. Nine hundred they were, in bright red uniforms. They were the most disciplined, the most feared soldiers in Europe. They were the king's guard.<p>

Switzerland snapped to attention, Schwyz was in the ranks of the troops.

"_AAAACH-TUNG_!"

Nine hundred pairs of boots stamped on the ground.

The mob had already gathered outside the gates to the palace. It seemed like all of Paris had come to call.

Then the king showed himself, along with his wife. Although he no longer held any power, he walked with the grace only a monarch could. He didn't know any better.

Switzerland saluted to the royal pair.

"_Vive le roi_!" he shouted.

"_VIVE LE ROI_!" nine hundred men called out.

Louis XVI nodded to Switzerland; his wife gave him an encouraging smile. Switzerland's face remained stony.

The king had announced that he was going to retreat to the parliament, and would be taking a hundred and fifty of the Swiss Guard with him. Switzerland did not question the order. He was going to be loyal to the end.

The king departed, and the seven hundred and fifty troops remained, standing at attention, facing the gates where the mob shouting and jostling and throwing objects at the Swiss. Suddenly the citizens grew quiet, and a gap opened in their ranks. A man in garish clothes and with long blond hair came into view.

"France!" Switzerland called out in anger.

"_Bonjour Suisse_...would you mind letting us in?"

Switzerland's face grew red with anger.

"Are you not supposed to be supporting your boss?"

"And vhy vould I do zat? All ze people are 'ere! _Vive la révolution_, _mon ami_! Now ope ze gates."

"_Jamais_!"

"Vhat? You're prepared to die for a stupid pampered royal, 'o never did a day's vork in 'is life? You surprise me _Suisse_."

"I am prepared to die for what I believe in, France!"

"Absolutistic rule?"

"You are starting to piss me off, you bastard!"

"And vhat do you sink zese people are feeling right now?"

"Do I care?"

"You should. Open ze gates! Open zem! And let me srough to my good king!"

"_Ta mère_! Come and get him!"

Switzerland raised his rifle and shot at France.

The musket was an extremely inaccurate weapon, but Switzerland had trained long enough to become its, master. He hit right where he wanted to, France's foot.

"_AIEEE_!"

France began to hop around on one foot, clutching his wounded one. The Swiss roared with laughter. Schwyz broke ranks and joined his father, also roaring with mirth.

"It…he…he looks like Russia doing the Cossack dance!" he said in between fits of laughter.

France regained himself and turned bright pink.

"_D'accord_! If you vant to play like zat, zen ve shall! I will get you, _Suisse_!"

He turned to the mob.

"_CHARGE_!"

The gates broke, and one hundred thousand armed Parisians spilt in.

The smile was wiped off Schwyz's face, and he clutched his musket tightly.

"Vater…I fear for my life."

"STAND YOUR GROUND!" Switzerland called to the soldiers "PRESENT ARMS!"

The muskets were leveled at the charging citizens. Switzerland raised his own gun.

"Vater, we must fire!"

"Wait for it…"

The citizens were armed as well, carrying a wide range of firearms. Most of them were untrained, but some of them were from the National Guard, revolutionaries.

"Vater!"

"Wait for it…"

The first militia raised their own guns.

"_FÜÜÜR_!"

The muskets boomed and spouted smoke. Several civilians fell, but more and more kept on coming.

"_FÜÜÜR_!"

The guard fired again, but they were now losing men out of their own ranks, soldiers shouting as they got hit, falling and being replaced by the one behind him.

"_FÜÜÜR_!"

Another volley.

The French citizens kept on coming, there was simply no end to them, and their numbers were overpowering.

One hundred thousand citizens against just over seven hundred Swiss infantry. What were the odds? And the French had seemingly plundered the city's arsenals, because they had brought cannons with them too.

Schwyz noticed this.

"Vater! Artillery!"

Switzerland gazed through the heavy smoke.

"Big ones, but they do not know how to use them." Switzerland reassured the agitated canton.

"I do not think that it matters at this range…"

A boom echoed across the grounds, and a cannonball ripped through the ranks of the Swiss.

Switzerland grew pale.

"We must drive them back! Otherwise we will get slaughtered!"

"Agreed Vater. ADVANCE!"

He noticed his father gazing at him.

"Did you just give the troops an order?"

Schwyz was shocked by his own audacity.

"Please forgive me…I do not know what came over me."

Switzerland smiled.

"You heard my son! VORWÄRTS!"

The Swiss advanced, and slowly the citizens were driven outside, back into the streets, and kept at bay. The lost several cannons and ammunition to the defenders in the process.

"We have them on the run! I cannot believe it!" Schwyz said excitedly.

"But not for long…"

He turned to the soldiers.

"Spike the cannons and collect the cartridges. We will need them. Then retreat to the main building and hold your positions at all costs. Unless the king says so, we are not moving a foot."

* * *

><p>King Louis XVI was in the Parliament, together with his family, and several representants of the new government.<p>

From far away, one could hear the noise of battle.

"Ve vant you to tell ze troops to lay down zeir arms, and surrender to us."

The man slid a paper in front of him.

"Sign 'ere"

A bead of sweat slid down from under the king's wig, and he slowly picked up a quill and signed his name at the bottom of the document. At least the loyal guards would be safe after this, he thought.

The order of surrender did not reach all units. Some of the Swiss retreated to their barracks in another part of the town, but many were left stranded, disorganized, and fighting for their lives, and were eventually butchered.

* * *

><p>Switzerland, Schwyz and a couple dozen of the remaining guards stuck together and attempted to resist the inevitable. They had run out of ammunition, and were only using their blades now.<p>

They had killed many of the attackers, but their numbers proved too great, and one by one, they fell under the merciless slaughter of the Parisians.

Schwyz hit the floor first, a large gash in his leg and another one in his throat.

Switzerland was still up and fighting, even with a dislodged bayonet sticking out of his shoulder, a pound of lead in his gut, and one eye bloody, he kept on killing, and killing without disregard for injuries to himself.

"FOR HONOR! FOR THE KING!"

A musket crashed and Switzerland stumbled, then a woman, wife to one of the fallen no doubt, picked up a saber and ran him through with it. Switzerland fell, right next to his son, and they both bled out on the marble floor of the palace.

Switzerland saw parades of victorious citizens parading up and down outside. They carried the heads of the slain on pikes, and were cheering. They had fought with honor, and were being treated like animals! Like prizes!

Schwyz coughed.

"We will get through this Vater, will we not?"

Switzerland was trying not to groan from the pain.

"O-of course we will…we are…we are Swiss after all."

"P-promise me one thing though Vater…"

"Anything…son."

"Build a monument…right? A monument for the fallen."

"I promise."

"And you must get rid of this madness…being a mercenary has no future…not for many of those who fight as one, and certainly not for these poor souls here."

"I promise, son."

A pair of shining boots appeared in Schwyz's vision, they were heading towards the two, lying on the floor, and an all too familiar laugh rang out in the hall.

"_Ohonhonhonohon_!"

It was France.

"Dammit! What do you want here you bastard?"

France tutted.

"Don't be such a sore loser, _Suisse_. You did vell."

France knelt down beside Schwyz's father.

"_C'est comme j'ai te dit_" he whispered "I got you in ze end."

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>**he Swiss guards defended the palace room for room and lost, according to sources, between 550 and 700 hundred men. **

**The Parisian****s lost anywhere between 600 and 4000. I like to think that it was close to the upper limit.**

**The Swiss that weren't butchered immediately were executed over the following days in the most gruesome ways imaginable. Only one officer received a 'clean' execution, via the Guillotine. **

**The soldiers that did make it out alive returned to Switzerland, but were not paid for their work. This cause****d outrage among the Swiss population, and some called for war against France, but were unsuccessful. **

**No more Swiss regiments were formed,**** that is until Napoleon annexed the whole country for a short period of time.**

**The monument to the fallen stands, I visited it myself, in Lucerne. It is a giant stone lion, hewn into a rock face, lying wounded on spears and shields with the Swiss cross on them. **

**I****t praises the Guards at the Tuileries for their bravery, loyalty, and that they died as heroes.**


	6. Grisons: The Mountain Fortress

**Grisons** **is** **the** **largest** **of** **the** **Swiss** **cantons,** **and** **forms** **the** **eastern-most** **tip** **of** **the** **country.**************************************************************

**In** **German,** **its** **name** **is** **'Graubünden'** **which** **means** **'The** **Gray** **Union'** and**** **has** **a** **historical** **background** **that** **is** far **too** **vast** **for** **me** **to** **explain.**********************************************************************************************

**The** **canton** **is** **the** **only** **one** **who** **has** **three** **spoken** **languages,** **German,** **Italian,** **and** **Rumantsh,** **a** **language** **directly** **descended** **from** **Latin,** **spoken** **by** **0.5%** **of** **the** **population** **and** **exclusively** **in** **Grisons.**************************************************************************************************************************

**Being** **largely** **in** **the** **Alps,** **Grisons** **is** **home** **to** **some** **of** **the** **most** **popular** **skiing** **sites** **in** **the** **world,** **but** **there** **is** **far** **more** **to** **the** **Alps** **than** **just** **slopes.**********************************************************************************************************************

**In** **a** **darker** **age** **of** **mankind,** **the** **Alps** **were** **the** **last** **retreat** **of** **the** **Swiss** **population.**************************************************************

**Germany** **had** **conquered** **almost** **all** **of** **Europe,** **and** **had** **its** **sights** **in** **this** **little** **nation.**********************************************************

**The** **Swiss** **feared** **that** **German** **troops** **would** **cross** **the** **Rhine** **and** **invade** **the** **country,** **so** **they** **built** **bunkers,** **artillery** **emplacements** **and** **machine-gun** **nests** **at** **strategic** **points** **in** **the** **Alps,** **effectively** **sealing** **off** **a** **part** **of** **it.** **This** **was** **called** **the** **Swiss** **National** **Redoubt,** **or** **Alpine** **fortress,** **and** **was** **a** **project** **unmatched** **by** **anything** **else** **in** **its** **time.**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

**INTRO!**

**Hey,** **hey** **Papa!  
><strong>Give<strong> <strong>me<strong> <strong>Wine!<br>**Hey,** **hey** **Mama!  
><strong>Hey,<strong> <strong>hey<strong> <strong>Mama!<br>**The** **Capuns** **that** **I** **ate** **before,  
><strong>I<strong> <strong>can<strong>'<strong>t<strong> <strong>forget<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>taste<strong> <strong>of<strong> <strong>it!<strong>******************************************************************************************

**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Draw<strong> <strong>a<strong> <strong>circle,<strong> <strong>it's<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>Earth<br>**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Viva<strong> <strong>Grischun!<strong>**********************************************************************

**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Look<strong> <strong>closely,<strong> <strong>it's<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>Earth<br>**Or** **maybe** **it's** **the** **Earth?  
><strong>Viva<strong> <strong>Grischun!<strong>**************************************************************

**Ah,** **with** **the** **single** **swipe** **of** **a** **paintbrush  
><strong>A<strong> <strong>wonderful<strong> <strong>world<strong> <strong>can<strong> <strong>be<strong> <strong>seen<br>**With** **skis** **on** **your** **feet** **you** **can** **be** **pretty** **fast.  
><strong>Gri-i-sons!<strong>******************************************************************************************

**"I** **don't** **talk** **much;** **they** **say** **I'm** **shy**…**eh?** **Ticino! Not so close sorella! You're making me feel uncomfortable. EH!** **Stop** **touching** **me!"**************************************************

**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Draw<strong> <strong>a<strong> <strong>circle,<strong> <strong>it's<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>Earth<br>**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Viva<strong> <strong>Grischun!<strong>**********************************************************************

**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Soaring<strong> <strong>Mountains,<strong> <strong>it's<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>earth<br>**Covered** **with** **snow,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>****************************************************************************************************************************Viva** **Grischun!********************************************************************

**Bünderfleisch,** **dried** **in** **alpine** **air  
><strong>Makes<strong> <strong>a<strong> <strong>recipe<strong> <strong>for<strong> <strong>happiness.<br>**Slopes** **and** **cuisine** **are** **so** **diverse.  
><strong>Icy<strong> <strong>paradise!<strong>**************************************************************

**Hey,** **hey** **Brüeder!** **Röteli** **for** **me!  
><strong>Now<strong> <strong>now,<strong> <strong>sorella,<strong> <strong>for<strong> <strong>you<strong> <strong>too?<br>**Hey,** **hey** **poppa,** **I'm** **doing** **it** **again?  
><strong>Hi,<strong> <strong>hi<strong> <strong>baby!<br>**In** **three** **languages?******************************************************************************************

**Hey, hey Papa!  
><strong>**Give me wine!  
><strong>**Hey,** **hey** **Mama!  
><strong>Hey,<strong> <strong>hey<strong> <strong>Mama!<br>**The** **Capuns** **that** **I** **ate** **before,  
><strong>I<strong> <strong>can't<strong> <strong>forget<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>taste<strong> <strong>of<strong> <strong>it!<strong>******************************************************************

**Grischun!  
><strong>Grischun!<br>**Come** **and** **visit** **Grischun!******************

**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Draw<strong> <strong>a<strong> <strong>circle,<strong> <strong>it's<strong> <strong>the<strong> <strong>Earth<br>**Draw** **a** **circle,** **it's** **the** **Earth  
><strong>Viva<strong> <strong>Grischun!<strong>**********************************************************************

**Ah,** **with** **the** **single** **swipe** **of** **a** **paintbrush,** **a** **wonderful** **world** **can** **be** **seen  
><strong>Come<strong> <strong>to<strong> <strong>me<strong> <strong>if<strong> <strong>you<strong> <strong>want<strong> <strong>to<strong> <strong>ski!<strong> <strong>Viva<strong> <strong>Grischun!<strong>******************************************************************************************

**Ah,** **in** **this** **snowy** **world** **is** **a** **recipe** **for** **happiness  
><strong>Go<strong> <strong>grab<strong> <strong>a<strong> <strong>helmet<strong> <strong>and<strong> <strong>come<strong> <strong>along!<strong> <strong>Hetalia!<strong>******************************************************************

* * *

><p>2. September 1939, early morning<p>

It was a beautiful morning in the Swiss Alps, and the canton of Grisons was already up before the sun had risen over the snowy peaks.

He was looking forward to a day of farming; there was still a load of hay that he needed to get into the barn.

He was in the kitchen of his chalet, boiling milk and reading the chocolate powder.

"_Ziitig_!" a voice called from outside.

Grisons left the stove and went to the front door. He just opened it in time to see the post car driving away.

He picked up the newspaper from the doorstep, went back to the kitchen and put it on the wooden table.

He finished making the hot chocolate and sat down at the table. He took a sip and flipped opened the paper.

He spat out the liquid in shock and scanned the front page.

'_DEUTSCHLAND_ _GREIFT_ _POLEN_ _AN'_______ it declared. Germany had attacked Poland! This could only mean one thing. Grisons searched the page and found what he was looking for.

'_GENERALMOBILMACHUNG' _it said at the bottom of the page. General mobilization. His father had told him that this day would come, but he had personally hoped it would not.

He left the table without bothering to clean up and went to a cupboard in the storeroom. He opened the wooden door and the found his pack ready, his helmet on a rack, his uniform folded up on s shelf and the rifle leaning against the back.

Five minutes later Grisons left the house and locked the door behind him. For all he knew he might never come back.

War had broken out, and Switzerland was calling his children to arms.

* * *

><p>"My cantons, as you have surely heard, that bastard Germany has declared war on Poland, and I do not doubt that his troops will have overrun him in a matter of weeks. And I do not believe that he will stop there."<p>

Switzerland had gathered all his twenty-seven children around a map table, all were uniformed and armed. There was an atmosphere of tension all around. Their very existence might depend on the decisions that would be taken now.

"Bern, please give us the details."

The capital canton stepped forward and addressed the room at large.

"Brothers and sisters…_Vater…_dear comrades…Germany is under the government of a new boss…a madman…If-"

Switzerland interrupted.

"Bern, time is of the essence, so if you would please continue with your report a bit faster?"

"Eh…certainly_…Vater. _If my thoughts are correct…then Germany might end up having to attack all of Europe…Also…it seems like Italy has allied with him…and Austria has been annexed…this places us in quite a predicament."

"Surrounded on three sides!" Zürich interjected.

"But Germany's people will not do that, right?" asked Thurgovia.

"They are not like us, daughter. They would do anything to come out of the economic depression they were in." Switzerland said.

"Oh…" Thurgovia looked a little crestfallen "they always seemed so nice when the were visiting my cities."

"Anyway" Berne continued "We might just find ourselves…under attack."

"Why?" asked Jura. He was not yet a canton; a mere deputy of Berne's, but Switzerland wanted him there anyway. He looked slightly ridiculous with the uniform much too big for him and the helmet drooping over his eyes.

"Because…you little brat…we are rich-"

"AHEM!" Zurich interrupted "I am rich!"

"Because…we are close…he thinks us small and weak…we separate him from his beloved Italy…"

Some cantons sniggered.

"…And…" he paused for dramatic effect "we smashed his football team!"

There were cheers from the cantons, and some even laughed.

"Enough of this" Switzerland said, sternly, and the noise died down. "We have work to do. First, may I present to you, the supreme commander of our forces, General Henri Guisan!"

Switzerland motioned with his hand.

They were joined by a short elderly man in contemporary uniform.

"_Bonjour_ _messieurs"___ he said.

The French speaking cantons smiled, Vaud's grin was smuggest of all; the General was one of his citizens. Ticino and Grisons both looked uninterested, but the German peaking cantons were staring in disbelief at their father and the man who was to command their army.

Zurich was the first to respond.

"But _Vater_! You cannot be serious!"

"I am _miin_ _Sohn___, this is war, and I do not jest in a time as serious as this."

"But what about our candidate?"

The northern cantons had presented their own candidate for the position of supreme commander; it had been quite a contest.

"Zürich, I have reviewed Ulrich Wille's dossier, the man has an admirable heritage, his father led our troops before, and his career is impressive, but one thing overshadows all of it; his sympathies."

"What sympathies?"

"I will not have a Nazi sympathizer in charge of my military, understood?"

Schaffhouse spoke up.

"_Vater_, some of us think the Germany have the right idea."

"Even more the reason for _monsieur Guisan to get the position. We will remain as we always have; eternally neutral, and that is my final word! Mon general, if you would please?"_

Guisan stepped forward to the map.

"_Merci. _Mesdames__,__ _messieurs___, zis iz ze situation"

He pointed to Switzerland's northern border.

"Ze Rhine, zis iz ze most dangerous point. If _Allemagne _were to attack us, it would from 'ere."

He picked up a pencil and drew a line in the map.

"Zis vill be our first defensive line, along ze Limmat river."

"The first defensive line in my lands!" Zurich exclaimed.

"Suck it up loser" Berne told him.

"Mon General, what if Germany and his forces threaten to overwhelm these defences?"

"Zen ve shall make use of the best defenses of all"

He gestured to the center of the map.

"Ze Alps"

"Yes, _mon_ _Generale.___" Switzerland then adressed his cantons.

"Valais, Vaud, Uri, Schwyz, Obwalden, Nidwalden, Graubünden, we need those positions constructed at once!"

„Yes, Vater!"

„We must nt be indeceisive, for every passing second brings he possibiity of invasion closer to our doorstep. General, I shall leave you to supervise the northern defences."

„_Très bien_"

„Zürich, Bern, I will need out establish spying networks. You will have ambassadors, diplomats and politicians visiting, trying to gather intelligence for their nations and spy on each other and us as well. We must get them first."

„Spying on the spies? Brilliant _Vater_!" Zurich exclaimed.

„I have not come so far as to be wiped out by Germany. We shall survive, we shall prevail. Long live our confederation!"

„Long live our confederation!" the cantons replied.

„Dismissed!"

The cantons left, hurrying to perform their duties, Grisons hesitated, hanging back. Switzerland who was folding up the map, noticed.

„Yes Graubünden?"

Grisons shifted the weight on his feet uncomfortably.

"_Vater_, I am sorry to ask, but what about your recent acquaintance?"

"Are you referring to the Principality of Liechtenstein?"

"Yes, her, whom you so graciously dubbed your 'sister'."

Switzerland spread the map out on the table again, and then examined the part east of his own land.

"She is reasonably defendable. We will protect her, at all costs."

"But _pater_!" Grisons started to protest.

Switzerland slammed his fist down on the table

"At all costs!"

"But she has no value! None at all!"

"Since when did you care about monetary value Grisons, you who refuse cars on your streets."

"I am not talking about financial value, but that certainly is another concern of ours, she has been draining our resources."

"I have willingly made my assets available for her so that she may be able to reconstruct, and you can hardly deny that we have boomed in the last thirty years."

"Yes, _Vater_, but she holds no territorial value, what us does she have for us?"

"I do not care about your so-called 'territorial value'. We will keep her from harm, and you will be partly responsible for her."

"But-"

"Dismissed!"

* * *

><p>"<em>FÜÜR<em>!"

A mortar popped and after a few seconds the shell exploded on the ground in the distance.

"_NALADE_!"

The soldiers reloaded quickly, then ducked their heads

"_FÜÜR_!"

Again.

They were in the Alps; Grisons had an entire company of soldiers assembled, practicing. They had so far proved excellent.

Along with the mortar, the soldiers fired their K31 rifles at distant targets. All of them had the same uniform, gray coats and kettle helmets. It made them look like German soldiers to the inexperienced eye, but there was no chance of their countrymen of confusing them with the enemy.

Grisons was very hot, it was thirty degrees in the shade, but he stuck strictly to the uniform code.

It had been…how long since the army had been mobilized? Two…three months? He had lost track of time while in the cold, concrete housing of the artillery bunker they had taken up their positions in.

The defense lines had been constructed, to the north and in the center. The flak cannons were being operated around the clock, and so far there had been no incidents.

As far as Grisons was concerned, Germany could come. They would show him what true military might was!

Just then he heard a voice. A female voice.

"_Fratello_! Oh _fratello_, where are-a you?"

Grisons immediately paled, then grabbed the nearest lieutenant.

"Quick, hide me!"

The soldier looked confused, but alerted.

"What? What is it? Are we being attacked?"

"Nooo…it is worse than that!"

Grisons' sister Ticino appeared over the slight rise of the hill, also in uniform, but not wearing the coat. In fact, in Grisons' opinion, she was wearing less clothing than any regulations would ever allow.

And she was not alone. She was dragging another, younger girl behind her, one that Grisons vaguely recognized.

"_Fratello_? What are you doing down there?"

Grisons stood up from the ridiculous half-crouch he had been in behind the lieutenant.

"Eh…nothing…I lost…my…eh…nothing. How are you Ticino?"

"I am-a so well _fratello __Grigioni_."

"Italy is not giving you trouble?"

"_Italia_? No, not at all! He is such a coward."

"You used to be too..."

Ticino slapped her brother playfully on his arm.

"Ah, you're a-funny, _fratello_. You taught me not to be."

"Yeah...I guess I did. Who is your companion?"

Until now the young girl had been standing next to her, silently observing the two.

"This, _fratello_, is Liechtenstein."

„_Guten Tag Graubünden_."

She curtsied slightly.

Grisons was extremely tall, so he towered over the small country.

„I see. And what are you doing here?"

„I just-a wanted to see you, _fratello_." Ticino said.

A bead of sweat rolled down Grisons neck. Behind him, the soldiers had congregated and were watching, some sniggering at the tension.

„A-And her?" Grisons gestured to Liechtenstein.

„_Poppa_ wanted you to show her what fighting was about."

„Big brother said that I could hide here if things go bad. B-but I just came to watch..."

„Nonsense!" objected Grisons „If you want to hide here, then you will fight for your place. Soldier!" he addressed one of the watching men.

„_Ja_ sir!"

„Your rifle."

The soldier passed his carbine to Grisons and Grisons threw it into Liechtenstein's arms. Her thin arms struggled to carry the heavy weapon.

„B-but I can't fight like this. _Bitte_...don't make me."

„You will do what I say."

„Eh, _fratello_, are you not to harsh?"

„No. If she wants asylum, she must be able to defend it."

Liechtenstein was tearing up.

„_B-b-bitte_" she pleaded.

„My father, your brother, sent you here and ordered me to show you what fighting is about. How I interpret that order is up to me. Now get going."

Hesitantly, Liechtenstein moved forward to the range. She lifted the gun and her first shot missed by about a hundred meters.

„_Fratello_, you cannot a-do this."

„I can and I will! These are dark and desperate times, we all need to do our part to guarantee our survival, no matter who we are. Resume practice!"

The other soldiers lined up at their posts and started to shoot again. Liechtenstein was still trying to lift the gun up to a decent height.

Ticino looked with doubt at her older brother.

"_Fratello Grigioni_, what-a do you believe to achieve like-a this?"

Grisons' face remained tern, his gaze fixed on the training men and Liechtenstein. His voice was cold an hard as he replied.

„I believe that if we continue with our efforts, we might just pull through."

* * *

><p><strong>The mountain fortress was constructed as a last retreat for the Swiss population and the army, but never used. Germany did have plans to invade, and on Nazi records, it said that the Swiss would have been able to offer substantial resistance to invading forces.<strong>

**The bunkers were modernized during the cold war, this time for a Soviet invasion. After then fall of the Union, the fortress was abandoned, and today it is more of a myth.**

**Over time, its importance in the Swiss resistance was diminished; some historians even doubted its effectiveness. But for me, the National Redoubt will always remain the main reason why we managed to maintain our neutrality.**


	7. Schaffhouse: The Air Raid

**Sorry for another WW2 chapter in such quick succession, but it is a really interesting time for Switzerland, and a lot happened there that is worth mentioning, so just bear with me.**

**During the Second World War, Switzerland was neutral, of course, and the air space above Switzerland was prohibited. The Swiss air force and ground forces made sure that any invaders were punished severely.**

**Both Axis and Allied planes violated Swiss airspace, and although the Swiss defense was good, it was not infallible, and in some cases, aircraft did get through.**

**This alone would have not been so bad, but the further the war progressed, the more often it was Allied bombers, and because the Swiss were better disposed towards the Allies, those were not shot down on sight.**

**Apparently, the Allied pilots are real bad navigators, and couldn't tell the difference between Switzerland and Germany. The rest is self-concluding.**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

* * *

><p>31. March 1944, midday.<p>

Schaffhouse was on a stroll through is capital. Although there was a war going on, life in town went on almost as usual, even though reminders of the situation in Europe could be seen everywhere.

Although there were people, those people didn't look happy, and Schaffhouse was not particularly cheery himself.

Why? Because he lived right next door to that bastard Germany!

Schaffhouse walked along the main street and turned into a store. He exchanged his ration coupons against his daily portion of bread, butter, meat, sugar, flour and coffee. Rationing may have been strict, Switzerland had known no pardon, wanting to avoid a depression like thirty years before, but so far it had proven successful.

On his way home, Schaffhouse took a detour. Overhead the church bell chimed two, echoing across the rooftops. He was headed for a road.

Things were looking better though. The Allies were advancing. Britain, America and Canada had liberated France, and Russia was fighting against Prussia in the east. Schaffhouse would not have minded it, except for one thing.

Damn planes!

Allied planes were coming awfully close to his place. He had anti-air defences in place, but there was always a possibility.

Schaffhouse arrived at the road. It was crowded with soldiers, staring intently at the far end, and guarding a barrier of wood and barbed wire. The barbed wire stretched for as far as he could see, and there was a machine gun set up behind a pile of sandbags.

It was unfortunate for Schaffhouse that he lived on the far side of the Rhine, with not even the river separating him from the menace.

The soldiers recognized him and saluted.

"Sir!" they said and snapped to attention as one.

"At ease."

He handed over the coffee.

"Here men, take this. You deserve it."

"Sir, we cannot possibly accept it."

"I refuse to take it. I am not here in uniform with you, so I must do everything I can."

The soldier accepted the package.

"_Danke_ sir. But you are needed to keep the factories up and running."

"I know, but I still wish I could be here with you. Anything happening?"

Schaffhouse had been doing this routine for weeks now, and every day the news had been the same. Today would be no different.

"_Nein_ sir. All clear."

"And the sky?"

"Nothing all day, sir."

"Alright, you just keep doing what you are doing and keep those damn planes of my back."

"Understood sir."

"Good luck."

The soldier went back to raking the skies with his binoculars. Always alert. Guarding their homes, their families, and their freedom.

As they were doing all over the border, in the bunkers and pillboxes on the banks of the Rhine, the fortresses in the Alps, the barracks, the operating and command centers and the airfields.

Schaffhausen headed back into town. It was late afternoon already, and he fancied a drink, so he took a left turn and went to one of the many restaurants that dotted his city.

The inside was sparsely lit, by electrical lamps hanging over the tables, stuck in quilted lampshades.

There were about half a dozen patrons, grouped together, a lone man in one corner reading a newspaper, and the barman behind the counter.

Schaffhausen smiled, and then headed towards the loner.

He sat down in the opposite chair, placed his hands on the tabletop and stared intently at the man opposite him, his face obscured by the front page.

"Hello, _Vater_" he said.

Switzerland folded up the papers and put them down on the table.

"Hello _Sohn_, how did you know it was me?"

"No one here reads the financial papers, _Vater_."

Switzerland looked mildly interested.

"Ah, yes, but they should."

"How did you know that I was going to be here in this exact restaurant?"

"I am your father."

Which was a fair answer.

"You would not be here unless you had some kind of business to discuss with me."

"Can I not visit my own son purely out of interest?"

"Not in these time _Vater_, not anymore. There is so much going on that you simply cannot afford to do something out of pleasure; therefore you must be here in business."

Switzerland grinned encouragingly.

"Well done. Indeed, I do have matters to discuss with you."

He leaned closer.

"How is the production of Aluminium going?"

"Well, you know _Vater_, is not easy turning natural Aluminium-oxide into the metal that we use, for we need a great amount of energy, which is provided for me by the Rhine, to power an electrolysis with Potassium, and carbon electrodes in a Cryolite solution to-"

"_Ja_, _ja_, I know that you are quite the expert in industry. What about Germany's shipment?"

Schaffhausen scowled. His father and Germany had a deal to trade high grade Aluminium for coal. Switzerland used the coal to heat the homes of his citizens. Germany used the metal for his war machine.

"The shipment is ready as requested."

"Is it now?"

"Unfortunately so."

"What about the leaks in the carbon seal that needed fixing?"

"'Leaks'?"

"Yes, the ones that postponed production for at least...eh...three months?"

Comprehension dawned upon Schaffhausen.

"Do you mean to tell me-?"

"Shh...keep your voice down, you never know who might be listening."

Schaffhausen remembered the posters hanging around town, and the leaflets that had been handed out, advising people not to talk about touchy subjects in public places and on phones.

"Sorry, but you want me to postpone the shipment?"

"That I do _miin __Sohn_."

"Why?"

"The Allies will soon be making their advance. If my intelligence is correct, then they will try to free France in just a few months."

"Who told you that?"

"My calculating mind."

Schaffhausen nodded. 'Calculating mind' was their code for Zurich, who had turned spy for the confederation.

"What about coal for the winter?"

"I think we have enough coal to last. Germany paid in advance because he lost so many planes in his battle against Britain."

"I will see to it at once."

"Or rather not."

Switzerland picked up his helmet and rose from his seat.

"I know I can rely on you, I will need to go back to my forces. Farewell Schaffhausen."

Switzerland left.

At the next table, a couple of men were playing cards, so Schaffhausen decided to join them.

* * *

><p>Schaffhausen awoke to the penetrating sound of an alarm.<p>

"What the...?"

He stumbled out of bed in the dark and went to the window, throwing the wooden shutters wide open, and the noise doubled.

His home was in the city, situated at the top of a hill on which the capital slanted downwards toward the Rhine, so he had a good view of the surrounding area.

It was dawn, a thin sliver of sun illuminating the countryside.

What Schaffhausen saw almost made him pass out.

Smoke was rising from various parts of the city.

That and the siren made it all too apparent what was happening.

Schaffhausen sprinted to his cupboard, took out his rifle and headed outside, down into the lower levels of the city.

People were out in the streets, running everywhere in panic, there was screaming and shouting, and mothers were clutching their children by the hand and dragging them away from the commotion.

Schaffhausen continued in the other direction, struggling against the flood of fleeing citizens.

He grabbed a passing man.

"Citizen! What is happening here?" he shouted over the noise of the panicking crowd and the klaxon.

The elderly man was pale white.

"Son, we are under attack!"

"Where is the nearest flak?"

The man pointed.

"Get these people to safety!" Schaffhausen commanded and headed off in the direction the man had gestured to.

The flak was manned, two soldiers searching the skies with a huge spotlight, another three directing the gun.

"_CHASCH'S __GSEH_?" the gunner shouted to the crew.

"_NEI_!"

Schaffhausen arrived panting.

"What has happened?" he demanded.

"Sir, we have been attacked in the first light of dawn; bombs were dropped on your city, sir!"

"How many aircraft?"

"Until now our guesses are at around three dozen."

"Jesus Christ...Axis?"

"We do not know, sir! How is the damage?"

"From what I saw from my window, they hit everywhere."

Suddenly one of the spotters shouted.

"_DETÄ_!"

Schaffhausen looked and saw something monstrous pass overhead, accompanied by the roar of several engines.

"Jesus Christ! It is a 'Liberator'! An Allied bomber!

"Awaiting orders sir!" the gunner called.

"Shoot them! Shoot the bastards down for violating my father's neutrality!"

"_FÜÜR_!"

The gun fired, but missed.

"Keep on firing soldiers! I need to get the civilians out of here!"

"_Ja_ sir!"

Schaffhausen sprinted off again, down the narrow alleys towards the banks of the river. He had seen that most of the damage had been done there.

As he rounded a corner he saw a collapsed building, and spreading flames. The local fire department was desperately trying to stop the inferno from catching on to other buildings.

He ran up to one of the fire-fighters.

"Damage report!"

"Several houses have been destroyed, and others are burning away. We are trying our best to contain it!"

Just then they heard a cry for help.

"_HILFE_! _ZUR __HILF_!"

"It is coming from under the rubble!" exclaimed the fireman.

Schaffhausen ran forward and began to dig through wood and brick to get to the source of the voice.

"Hang on! I will be there in a second!"

He tried to lift a huge beam out of the way, his muscles, built up by long years of manual labor, strained against the weight, and then the massive wooden log shifted.

A woman lay under there among the debris, scratched and bleeding, all sooty from the dust. It was a wonder she was still alive.

"Help me!" she pleaded.

"Hold on to my arms!"

She grabbed his forearms and Schaffhausen pulled her free of the masonry. She had sustained cuts to her legs and her clothing was ripped in places, she limped slightly and Schaffhausen supported her.

"Are you alright, citizen?"

"Yes, I am fine now, I thought I was going to suffocate under there, _danke_."

"_Gern__geschehen_. Come on, let us het out of here, it is not safe."

"But I cannot walk."

"I will help you." Schaffhausen then addressed the firemen.

"You are doing a great job; keep in fighting men, and may God be with you."

Together, he and the injured woman slowly made their way as far as they could from the smouldering ruin.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question. A hospital sounds like an idea, but for now we need to get distance between ourselves and that fire."

A rumble started overhead, a drone of many engines. Schaffhausen looked up and saw several silhouettes passing, darkening the sky, and the telltale whistle of something large falling down towards them.

"GET DOW-" he was cut off by a huge explosion that threatened to burst his eardrums. He heard a scream, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING YOU STUPID BASTARD?" Switzerland had lost all his composure.<p>

America looked slightly frightened but shrugged.

"Dude, what can I say, I suck at reading maps."

"HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOUR INCOMPETENCE HAS LEAD TO?"

"I...I have no idea."

"FOURTY DEAD YOU LITTLE PIECE OF _SCHEISSE_! FORTY! FOUR-OH! INNOCENT CIVILIANS YOU BASTARD! AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY SON SCHAFFHAUSEN!"

Schaffhausen shuffled forward. Most of him was in a cast, his right arm was in a splint, and he had a bandage around his head.

America waved his hand apologetically.

"Look, Switzerland, I'm sorry, 'kay? I was heading for Germany's place and it was dark."

"DO YOU THINK I AM STUPID AMERICA?"

"N-no..."

"GOOD! BECAUSE I WILL NOT TAKE ANY OF THAT CRAP FROM YOU! I KNOW WHY YOU REALLY DID IT!"

"Okay, whatever."

He turned to leave.

"STOP!" Switzerland commanded.

"What?"

"Do you not want to pay up?"

America took out a chequebook.

"Fine, how much?"

"Four million."

"What! No...aww come on! Two!"

"This is not a bazaar! I will not haggle with you! Four million or you are going to court!"

"Okay, okay, I'll pay already..."

* * *

><p><strong>On the first of April, 1944, 50 American B-24 Liberator heavy bombers flew over the Swiss Border and over Schaffhausen.<strong>

**Their target was the German city of Friedrichshafen, 235 kilometers north of Schaffhausen.**

**Misidentifying the city as Friedrichshafen, the bombers dumped their payloads on the town.**

**40 people were killed, and many more were injured. There was also substantial property damage.**

**By October that same year, the US government had paid Switzerland 4 million dollars in restitution. **

**The total of money paid to Switzerland because of such 'accidents' was 14 million dollars, or 180 million in today's currency.**

**The reason for me putting the word accident in quotes is that many didn't really think it was, but that it was intentional in order to frighten the Swiss government.**

**Why? Because of trade agreements that had been formed with Nazi Germany. Not that they had a choice, being a country devoid of all natural resources.**

**There are only records of one trial ever being held, following a bombing of the city of Zurich, and the accused were declared innocent.**

**To this day it is unclear what the true motives behind the bombings were.**


	8. Thurgovia: The Musical

**Thurgovia (or Thurgau in German) is a canton in the very northeast of Switzerland, separated from Germany by the Lake of Constance. It's heavily stereotyped to be a rural canton even though it possesses several cities. The canton's main products are however fruits, especially apples, pears, strawberries and fruit-related products like cider. That and the fact that from a certain angle the shape of the canton resembles that if India have made people from other cantons, especially the 'arrogant Zurichans', call the canton 'Cider-India'. In WW2 however, when food was short, Thurgovia was off one of the best through its vast amounts of agriculture. Concerned parents from the cities sent their children out to work in the country where food was readily available and they didn't have to be bothered by rationing.**

**Again I apologize for a WW2 chapter, but I wanted to write about Swiss society during that time from another perspective. We had a soldier, a worker, and now it's going to be a farmer, which is fundamentally different from the others. It WILL be the last chapter in this epoch. Also, I thought that all the chapters until now were rather grim, so for a change I decided to write this as a musical and enlist the help of my friend neva-chanluvsmonsters101 to help me with both the story and the songs. So, to kick it off as always…**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

**Hey**** hey ****Vati, ****give**** me**** cider!**  
><strong>Hey<strong>** hey ****Mutti,**** hey ****hey**** Mutti!**  
><strong>The <strong>**strawberries ****that**** I ****ate ****a**** long ****time ****ago**  
><strong>I<strong>** just**** can't**** forget**** the**** taste**** of**** them!**

**Draw**** a ****circle, ****it's**** the ****earth**  
><strong>Draw<strong>** a**** circle,**** it's**** the ****earth**  
><strong>Draw<strong>** a ****circle, ****it's ****the ****earth**  
><strong>I<strong>** am ****Thurgovia!**

**Draw**** a**** circle, ****it's ****the**** earth**  
><strong>Look <strong>**closely,**** it's**** the**** earth**  
><strong>Or <strong>**maybe ****it's**** the ****earth?**  
><strong>I<strong>** am ****Thurgovia!**

**Ah,**** with ****the**** single**** swipe**** of**** a ****paintbrush,**  
><strong>A<strong>** wonderful**** world**** can ****be**** seen**  
><strong>Picking <strong>**pears ****is ****my**** favorite**** pastime**  
><strong>Of <strong>**them**** all!**

**"They call me 'Cider-India', but I can do so much more! Just wait and see what I can make, and you'll find who I really am!"**

**Draw**** a ****circle,**** it's**** the ****earth**  
><strong>Draw<strong>** a**** circle, ****it's**** the**** earth**  
><strong>Draw <strong>**a**** circle, ****it's**** the**** earth!**  
><strong>I <strong>**am ****Thurgovia**

**Draw**** a**** circle, ****it's**** an**** orchard**  
><strong>Plant <strong>**some ****trees,**** it's**** an**** orchard**  
><strong>Pick <strong>**those**** fruits;**** it's**** an**** orchard**  
><strong>I<strong>** am ****Thurgovia!**

**Pears ****and**** apples**** freshly ****picked**  
><strong>Make<strong>** a**** recipe**** for ****happiness**  
><strong>From<strong>** outside**** they**** cost ****so ****much****less**  
><strong>But <strong>**mine ****taste**** good!**

**Hey**** hey**** Brüeder,**** pick**** some ****more!**  
><strong>Eh-what<strong>** Schwöschter? ****You're ****not**** hungry?**  
><strong>Opa <strong>**please,**** take**** some**** of**** these!**  
><strong>Hey <strong>**hey ****baby, ****you**** will ****grow ****strong.**

**Hey**** hey**** Mutti**  
><strong>Hey<strong>** hey ****Mutti**  
><strong>The<strong>** strawberries ****that ****I**** ate**** a**** long ****time ****ago**  
><strong>I<strong>** can't**** forget**** the**** taste**** of**** them!**

**Thurgovia!**  
><strong>Thurgovia!<strong>  
><strong>Let's<strong>** make**** some**** more ****cider!**

**Draw**** a**** circle,**** it's**** the ****earth**  
><strong>Draw<strong>** a**** circle, ****it's**** the**** earth**  
><strong>Draw <strong>**a**** circle,**** it's**** the ****earth**  
><strong>I<strong>** am**** Thurgovia!**

**Ah,**** with ****the ****single ****swipe**** of**** a ****paintbrush, ****a ****wonderful**** world**** can**** be**** seen.**  
><strong>An<strong>** apple ****a**** day ****keeps ****the**** doctor**** away! ****Thurgo-vi-a!**

**Ah,**** in**** this**** colorful**** world ****is**** a ****recipe ****for**** happiness**  
><strong>Grab<strong>** a**** basket**** and**** come**** along!**** He-ta-li-a!**

* * *

><p>March 1942, late morning<p>

Thurgovia was up in an apple tree, standing on a ladder, a basket under one arm, the other reached out to a bright red apple.

"Come on..."

The tips of her fingers touched the fruit's skin.

"Just a little..."

She went onto her toes and leant further. The ladder rocked threateningly and almost tipped, but Thurgovia managed to grasp hold of the apple and stand back fully on the top rung of the ladder.

"Yes! I did it!"

She put the fruit into the basket and descended down onto firm ground, placing the basket at the foot of the tree among half a dozen others. She stepped back and surveyed her work.

"Apples, pears, and apples! So many of them! They will bring joy to my family once I have pressed them and distilled the cider!"

She skipped off among the trees, the sun shining upon her strongly tanned skin, her green eyes sparkling with joy. It was a beautiful, warm spring day, and Thurgovia was in her usual, joyous mood.

A bunch of finches twittered from a nearby tree and flew down to circle around Thurgovia's head.

"Oh, hi there birds! Beautiful day, is it not?"

The birds tweeted in an approving fashion, while Thurgovia continued to skip, barefoot, through the rows and rows of trees.

"Yes indeed! But-" she stopped and her expression fell slightly. "I guess things could be better."

More tweeting.

"Did you hear that there is a war going on?"

Tweets.

"Oh, you have? Well, it is safe here, _Vati_ cares for all of us, and you too!"

Tweeting.

"Do not worry about me...Vati is strong, and even if Germany has a mad boss who makes him do crazy stuff, Vati can stop him, he can stop anybody if he likes."

The birds started to break out into song.

"You are right! We might as well enjoy ourselves. We are safe, we have apples and sunshine, we might as well sing!"

She hummed a note.

"Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do!"

And she began to sing.

"Doe, a deer, a female deer

Ray, a drop golden sun

Me, a name I call myself

Far, a long, long way to run

Sew, a needle pulling thread

La, a note to follow sew

Tea, a drink with Jam and bread

That will bring us back to Do!"

She skipped through the orchard, wind blowing about her, not a care in the world. Her sweet song seemed to resonate around the countryside. And she sang louder still.

"Doe, a deer, a female deer

Ray, a drop golden sun

Me, a name I call myself

Far, a long, long way to run

Sew, a needle pulling thread

La, a note to follow sew

Tea, a drink with Jam and bread

That will bring us back to Do!"

She reached the edge of her farmlands and found herself overlooking the Lake of Constance, across which was Germany, and she suddenly stopped her singing. There was a rumble of engines coming up form the highway.

"What might that be?"

The source of the noise then appeared, a convoy of army trucks, heading for her farmhouse.

"Why are they coming here of all places?"

The birds tweeted anxiously.

"Yes, we must get back at once and see what they want."

Thurgovia ran off, back through the orchard to the large barn that adjoined the house. She was a quick runner and reached the place at the same time the trucks pulled up.

She stopped and saw the soldiers jump out that back and deploy in formation. For one moment, she thought that Germany might have decided to invade at last! But then she saw a young man get out of the driver's cabin and look around the farmyard. Looking for her.

She smiled happily and ran towards the man, her skirts billowing in the wind.

"VATI!" she shouted with pleasure.

Switzerland turned around just in time to catch her. He lifted and spun her around in a full circle and set her down on her feet again.

"Hallo, Tochter."

"I am so happy so see you here!"

She glowed with joy.

"Yes...I can see that."

Her smile faltered a little.

"Are you not happy to see me too?"

"Of course I am, Thurgau, but under the circumstances, I cannot really bring myself to smile."

"Why?"

Switzerland looked around at the soldiers, all standing at attention.

"Thurgau...it is rather warm, and these men are thirsty. Do you have some cider you could spare?"

"Why, of course, whole barrels of it! They can drink as much as they want!"

Switzerland turned to the men.

"Did you hear that? Ten minutes drinking break. Anyone who is not here after that time will be charged with desertion. Verschtande?"

The soldiers broke formation and rushed past the to two to plunder the stores.

Switzerland took off his helmet and shook his hair.

"Thurgau...that cider of yours, it is not alcoholic, is it?"

"Of course it is! It has been sitting in the oak over winter!"

Switzerland groaned.

"Just great."

"Why so sad, Vati?"

Switzerland looked at his daughter, a slight shadow of doubt in his face.

"You do know that there is a war going on?"

"Of course, Vati, but you are here to protect me, right?"

Switzerland smiled weakly.

"Naturally"

"So then, why are you here?"

"Because of a matter of some delicacy."

"What, Vati?"

"There is rationing going on."

"No. That cannot be right, I have more than enough to eat."

"You do, but some do not. Like your brother Zürich."

Zurich. That was her closest western brother. Thurgovia didn't like him that much. He constantly made fun of her, because he was rich, and she was not. He loved insulting her, and it made her cry every time he called her by the nickname he had thought up for her. She stifled a tear.

Switzerland hesitated, and then hugged his daughter carefully.

"It is all right. I know how much you hate him, and how much pain he gives you. But this will not be easy to tell you..."

"What is?"

"He..." Switzerland looked guiltily at his polished boots "He will be coming to stay with you for a while."

"Noo! Vati, bitte, do not let him."

"I am sorry, but this is necessary."

"Vati, I cannot do this!"

"You can, and quite frankly, you do not have a choice. This is war, I am on duty, and that was an order."

Thurgovia bit her lip.

"Fine."

"I promise that he will behave. If not, I will hear about it."

Switzerland put on his helmet again.

"Well, I need to leave. There are defenses to be fortified." He called out to his troops

"MANNE!"

Nothing happened.

"SOLDATE!"

Still nothing.

"IF YOU ARE NOT HERE IN TEN SECONDS, THEN YOU WILL ALL BE COURT-MARTIALLED!"

Slowly, the men gathered together, some walking unsteadily.

"Good God..." Switzerland muttered "I will cut their rations for this."

They piled into the trucks and left.

Thurgovia was left standing alone, and very depressed.

* * *

><p>The next morning dawned brightly, and Thurgovia was just washing up the dishes from her meal when she heard a familiar sound.<p>

It was the signature tri-note honking noise of the post car, the only vehicle that came by regularly, precisely once a day.

It usually brought mail, but sometimes, on special days, also people.

Today way such a day.

But it was a bad special day.

The bright yellow bus halted on the main road and a person stepped out.

Thurgovia watched him through the kitchen window.

He was tall and lean, dressed in a dark blue suit with matching tie. His hair was neatly trimmed and his expensive shoes polished to a shine.

In short, he did not fit at all into the rural picture.

He regarded his surroundings with disdain and wrinkled his nose at what must have been the smell of manure coming from Thurgovia's barn. She had gotten so used to it she didn't notice any longer.

After a while of this, he started walking briskly towards the main house.

Thurgovia wiped her hands in her blouse and went to the door. A loud insistent knock resounded through the solid wood.

"Sis'! Thurgau! Open up!"

It was a command, not a request.

She sighed heavily and opened the door.

In stepped her older brother Zürich. Famous, rich, intelligent and arrogant like no other, even Bern.

"Welcome, Bruder" she said, trying to sound friendly.

"Take this for me." he said, thrust his suitcase into her hands and walked off to the living room.

She just stood there, dreading the week that was to come.

Zurich's voice called impatiently from the large armchair.

"Are you not going to serve a guest in this house? I just had an extremely unpleasant journey which ended in this dump, and I do not even get something to drink!"

Thurgovia slowly shuffled to he kitchen. This was going to be hell, she just knew it.

* * *

><p>The rooster crowed early next morning.<p>

Thurgovia leapt out of bed, fresh for a new day's work and wondered why she felt so down all of a sudden.

A voice rang out through the house

"Thurgau! Make that thing shut up or I will twist its neck myself! Does one not get rest in this awful place!"

Thurgovia sighed. That was it.

She got dressed and busied herself in the kitchen, then later went to Zurich's room.

"Brüeder, wake up, there is work to be done!" she called, trying to sound cheerier than she was.

"No! I will stay here until the ration situation has been solved! And I will not do any of your dirty work! I am a banker, not a farmer! Do you know how large my brain is? I do not, but I will invent a machine that will tell me! I am an intellectual, not a mean dumb farmhand!"

The last remark stung on Thurgovia's pride. But there was a way to get him out of his room. She went to the kitchen and got a large platter of pancakes with applesauce. The smell wafted through the house.

She returned to the door of Zurich's room.

"Oh, Brüeder!" she called loftily "Look what I have here! Fresh, warm breakfast!"

She heard some noise in the room and then the door opened suddenly. Zurich stood in the doorway, dressed in expensive silk pajamas. He snatched the platter from her and walked briskly to the kitchen.

Thurgovia smiled, and the followed.

She found him at the table, munching happily on freshly baked bread and drinking ridiculous amounts of coffee. The pancakes had already gone.

"I have to admit Schwöschter, that you do what you do very well, even if it is not much."

She didn't know whether this was meant as a compliment or not, so she stayed silent. The after a while of sitting and watching her brother eat, she said

"Hungry, are you?"

Zurich didn't bother to stop eating, which was very unusual for him

"Starving. I had been living on iron rations for months now."

"The rations were not enough for you?"

"Rations never are."

"Right, but you did not necessarily have to eat everything!" she complained as Zurich licked his plate clean.

"I was hungry!" he retorted.

Thurgovia bit her lip, resisting the urge to throw back an angry remark. In a way she understood her brother. She couldn't imagine living off strict rations.

"Well, at least we you are going to have strength to work in the fields and orchards afterwards"

Zurich nearly choked on a piece of cold meat.

"W-what? You expect me to work?"

"Well…yes, how else are we supposed to sustain ourselves…."? She smiled slightly "unless you want to pay..."

"No, no way I am parting with my money!"

"You do seem to have a lot of feelings for your wealth."

"Of course! Money makes the world go around as they say. And I just happen to own a fair-sized chunk of it. And I do not give it away lightly, you know why?"

Thurgovia sighed. Zurich was about to go into a tirade.

"Because" he said "it is all mine."

Then he started singing.

((Sings 'Mine Mine Mine' from Pocahontas))

Zurich: Germany's marks,

The Francs of our father,

Will all pass through my hands,

At one time or another.

The interest I make,

Will make me so rich!

Oh, with all my effort sis',

I got the riches sis'!

Mine, sis' all of it's mine!

It's mine, sis', mine to keep!

It's mine, sis',

Mine, sis',

I'm rich when we're through,

And share it with you,

Now would that not be fine?

When all of the bills...are mine!"

It's mine, it's mine, and all of it's mine,

It's mine, it's mine, and all of it's mine,

Oh how I love it!

Riches for cheap!

There'll be heaps of it! And I'll be on top of the heap!

My rivals abroad,

Will hopefully see then,

What I have done,

And I'm better than them.

Oh think of our father,

And me his loved son.

He'll honor me most of all,

His favorite...no, capital!

It's mine, mine!

Mine for the taking!

It's mine, sis',

Mine, only mine!

With that money,

Funny, that I'll be best known,

For riches I've shown,

Investors all standing in line!

When all of the money is mine!

It's mine, it's mine, and all of it's mine,

It's mine, it's mine, and all of it's mine,

And I'll keep on working sis',

Never shirking sis',

Mine, sis', mine,

Mine is that gold!

Thurgovia: What gold?

Zurich: Beautiful gold!

Thurgovia: What gold?

Zurich: Make this mine, sis',

Mine sis'!

Don't call me a priss,

I'd help you to farm sis'

But I've got to make it all mine!

'Cause it's…

Mine!

Mine!

Mine!

Mine!

He finished, standing on the table.

"Then, you have no other choice."

"Yes, I do, I will not work."

"You cannot do that."

"And why not? Who is going to stop me? You?" he laughed.

"No." she said calmly. "But I will write to father, and you know what he can make you do."

Zurich had lost all of his cockiness.

"W-What would that be?"

"He can make you go take up arms and defend our great confederation, serve your homeland. I am sure that you would not object to that."

Zurich was gone in the blink of any eye. Thurgovia first thought that he had gone and locked himself in his room again, but within seconds he had returned, fully dressed in work clothes.

"When can we get started?" he asked impatiently.

* * *

><p>A while later they were outside in the fields, Thurgovia showed Zurich how to drive the tractor.<p>

"Okay, so it is like a car basically, just slower, and there are not as many knobs. Do you think you've got it?"

Zurich scoffed at the remark.

"Tch. Piece of cake, I can drive my Mercedes, so I think I can drive a simple tractor."

Zurich climbed up onto the seat.

"Budge, will you sis'?"

Thurgovia climbed down and left the seat to Zurich.

"Take care of the good piece, it's rather expensive, you would not believe how long I needed to save up for it."

"I do not think I would, no."

She ignored the remark.

"It is a luxury piece! No one else has it yet! Most are still plowing with horses!"

"Yeah yeah, I got it."

Zurich shifted the gears and stepped on the gas. The machine lurched forward, slowly.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" he complained, shouting over the rumble of the engine.

"Be careful!" Thurgovia warned him.

Zurich shifted the gears all the way up to fourth.

"Time to get this bucket moving!"

He stepped on the gas pedal once more. The tractor screamed forward, bumping over the uneven earth.

"Halt! Stop!" Thurgovia shouted, but her voice was drowned. Then Zurich lowered the plow, and earth spurted in every direction. Thurgovia was immediately covered in dirt.

Meanwhile, Zurich was zigzagging over the field in an unsteady pattern, laughing maniacally.

"And I thought this was going to be dull!" he yelled.

He pulled the wheel this way and that, not watching where he went. He careened off the field, into the grass.

"Look out!" Thurgovia called after him "Watch out for the-" she was interrupted by a loud screeching noise. The tractor came to a sudden stop and Zurich was catapulted out of his seat.

Thurgovia jogged over to him. He was slightly dazed, but seemed otherwise unhurt.

"Are you okay?" she asked, full of genuine concern.

"Eh...I guess...what happened?"

"The plow struck a rock."

"Oh..."

They went around the side of the tractor to inspect the damage. The metal blades of the plow had been bent.

"Oops..." Zurich said.

Thurgovia rounded on him.

"That is all you have to say?" she shouted.

Zurich looked taken aback.

"Eh...I am sorry?"

"Do you know how long it will take to get a replacement?"

"I...have no idea..."

"Four weeks, you idiot, for week for a new plow! What am I going to do until then?"

"I do not think that is your only problem."

Thurgovia grew even angrier.

"Oh yeah? What else?"

"I think I broke the gearbox as well." Zurich said sheepishly.

"No plow, no tractor! What in heavens name are we going to do?"

An uncomfortable silence broke out between them.

"I could buy a new one." Zurich offered.

"Oh get lost, you and your stupid money."

A familiar tri-note honking interrupted them.

"The post car!" Zurich said.

"You can get right back on and go home to starve for all I care. But I do wonder why it I stopping here?"

"Are you expecting anyone?"

"No, I am not"

"Let us go have a look then."

They walked across the randomly plowed field back to Thurgovia's house, and saw that a stranger was standing in the yard. He had clearly just gotten of the bus and looked around in wonder at his surroundings.

"Who on earth is that?" Zurich asked inquisitively.

"How am I supposed to know?"

The stranger suddenly noticed them, and waved. They saw that he was dressed in a military uniform, one which neither Zurich nor Thurgovia recognized.

Zurich realized that the new arrival wasn't female, but merely a very feminine looking male, with his shoulder-length blonde hair, and when he spoke, even his voice seemed girlish.

"Hi! Like, oh my gosh, it's totally nice here. Are you, like, the two who live in the house?"

"Who the hell are you?" Zurich demanded.

In answer, the stranger held out a piece of folded paper to him. Zurich snatched it from his hands and read aloud.

"_Dear __Thurgovia__ and __Zurich,__ it __is__ through__ an __unfortunate__ turn__ of __events __that__ this__ man __was __driven__ from __his__ home,__ more__ accurately,__ he__ lost__ the__ war __against__ Germany._

_He __was __captured__ and __he__ wishes__ to __be__ interned_ _here,__ so__ I__ have __sent__ him __to__ you __so __that __he __may __be __of __use. __I__ tried __locking __him__ up __but __that __did __not __seem __fair __to __him. __So __he __shall __at __least __do __something __productive._

_I am sure that he will prove a great help on the farm, since he has declared that he is prepared to work for food and lodgings._

_Sincerely,__ your __father, __Switzerland_" Zurich finished.

"Is this true?" Thurgovia asked the newly interned

"Like, totally true!" he stretched out his hand in greeting.

"I'm Poland, and who're you?"

* * *

><p>A few days had gone by, and everything was quiet on the farm.<p>

Well, not everything. There was a lot of tension going on.

Poland was happy that he had been interned by Switzerland and not imprisoned by Germany like so many others.

He had heard too many rumors, and he preferred this to the alternative.

And hat was there not to like sure the work was hard, but that was easily overlooked through the beauty of the countryside. And not only that, the company was delightful as well. Mostly. Thurgovia was very nice, she was cheerful and happy and they got along very well.

Zurich on the other hand, her brother, not her husband as he had originally thought, was hostile, and he had no idea why.

The fact that the two were siblings puzzled I, for they didn't look anything like each other. Thurgovia explained that this was because they were not blood-related, that their father had adopted them.

"And like, do you like each other?" he had asked her.

She just shrugged.

"We get along most of the time. When you are twenty-five siblings you like some less than others."

"Twenty-five! That's like, a lot!"

"It is, it is."

"So…you and Zurich…like, like each other?"

"Well, he is my brother, but other than that, I do not really 'like' him"

For some reason this made Poland very happy.

* * *

><p>Thurgovia felt odd. She was still angry at Zurich or not listening to her and breaking her newest farming machine, but somehow she found the loss acceptable now that Poland was here.<p>

He seemed to understand he, no; he even listened to her, which was something that no one except Vat had ever done before.

He made her laugh, and the story of his unfortunate defeat made her want to hug him and tell him that it was all going to be all right.

She didn't do it of course; Vati had told her that such a thing was improper.

She caught him looking at her several times, and he quickly turned way when he aw that she noticed, but there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite identify.

All in all, she though that life had taken a turn for the better for her, and she hummed and whistled openly and more often while she worked, bursting into folksongs now and then.

* * *

><p>Zurich was livid. Not only had his sister given him the most atrocious work to do after his little accident wit the tractor, which could have happened to anyone, now he also has that foreigner to deal with.<p>

Poland was annoying, whiny and he couldn't take anything at all. He once got a splinter into his finger while tossing the hay, and he came running and crying for them to get him to a hospital.

And to top it off, he openly flirted with his sister! She did not seem to notice this behavior, or, and that would have been even worse, she welcomed it.

He couldn't rasp why Switzerland hadn't left him imprisoned. Sure, Germany was doing the same thin with others, but who said Germany was wrong to do such a thing?

In his opinion, Poland belonged behind fences and barbed wire. He should not be allowed out. He was after all a prisoner of war, and should be treated accordingly.

Poland played chess. That was something Zurich excelled at. One evening they sat together. He looked forward to humiliate Poland at his own game.

"You know that is going to land you in trouble, do you not?" he had said smugly as Poland moved a piece.

Poland hesitated.

"Huh? Like, what?"

"I would not do that if I were you."

"Haha! Like, totally thanks!" Poland instead moved another piece.

Zurich's grin widened.

What an ignorant fool, tricked with reverse psychology.

"Idiot. Do not listen to your enemy in battle. I guess that is why you lost against Germany, is it?"

"Like, what?"

"You opened up your field to me. Now I only have to stride in and check mate."

"Oh my gosh, this is like, totally not happening right now!"

"Deal with it loser…what the…?"

"I ACTIVATE MY SECIAL POLAND RULE! IT'S MY TURN FOREVER NOW!"

"You cannot do that! I protest!"

But Poland went right ahead and started to move all the pieces at his will.

"SCHWABABABABA! SCHWABABABABA!"

"STOP IT YOU FOREIGNER! YOU ARE RUINING THIS GAME!"

Poland laughed.

"Ahaha! This is almost as good as playing Liet! I think that I'll stay here and call this my hom-"

A fist contacted with the right side of his face. Zurich had truck him hard, a mad glint in his eyes.

Until that moment, Thurgovia had been peacefully knitting in a corner, but when Zurich hit, she dropped her needles and shrieked.

"Poland!"

Poland lay on his back, the chess-pieces strewn all around him.

He felt his left cheek, and noticed he was bleeding.

"OW! That like, totally hurt!"

Zurich advanced menacingly.

"Go home and cry about it!" he said, his hand still balled to a fist.

"You are not wanted here!"

And with that, Zurich turned around and left the room.

* * *

><p>This was not to be the end of it. Things got so bad between the two that Thurgovia decided to move Poland into a spare building, the one where she used to harbor farmhands. She thought that this was going to help keep the piece, but far from it.<p>

One Friday evening, Zurich came back form the nearest village. He had spent his day's wages on alcohol, and his clothes reeked. He barely noticed the rain soaking through his clothes.

He loathed the whole world at the moment. He hated being trapped outside in this backwater region. He could be in the city, eating filet mignon and drinking champagne, but he was here, surrounded by pigs, and people like pigs.

Then there was that foreigner, just coming here, flirting with his sister, and making his life unpleasant. Everything had been fine before HE had turned up.

As Zurich trod back to the house, he came up with what he thought was a brilliant idea.

He went to the house Poland slept in. the door was not locked, why would it be? He entered and quietly creped to Poland's cot. He was curled up under the woolen blanket, looking as girlish and weak as ever, maybe even more so.

He smiled with malice and ripped back the covers.

Poland's eyelids fluttered. And he woke up.

"T...Thurgovia?"

"No, you idiot"

Poland cringed from his voice

"Like, oh my gosh! Z-Z-Zurich…like, what do you want?"

"I want you gone."

"Like, what?"

"You heard me! GO!"

Zurich lifted up the bed on one side, and rolled Poland onto the floor, then he tossed him some clothes.

"Get away from here, you do not belong among us"

"B-But…like, I totally have no home" he pleaded.

"Do I look like I care? What is keeping you?"

Poland struggled to his feet and Zurich hit him, sending him to the floor once more.

"MACH SCHO! FASTER!"

Poland got up ad stood resolutely in front of him.

"Like, no."

"What?"

"I'm like, totally done with being pushed around, so I'm like, totally staying."

This was the final straw for the already enraged canton. Zurich picked him up, Poland flailing, and tossed him out the window into the mud of the courtyard.

Thurgovia woke up to the sound of shattering glass. She thought that it might be a thief, come to steal food. She got up and grabbed the shotgun she always kept under her bed, a trait she had inherited from her Vati.

She threw a cloak over herself, and proceeded into the living room, poised to attack, finger on the trigger.

But there was nothing.

She concluded that the noise didn't come from the main house, but from one of the side buildings. She opened the front door.

It was raining outside, and the droplets had churned up the earthy courtyard to a muddy mess. At first she couldn't see anybody, but in time shapes started to appear.

She saw two people, one lying on the ground in the mud, and the other standing over it.

After a split second she realized who they were.

"Poland! No!" she shouted

Thurgovia stormed forward, her bare feet becoming wet and dirty.

Zurich was kicking Poland in his side, and the nation was groaning in pain.

"Get out of our country! Go home and leave us alone!" She heard Zurich yell at the pitiful shape on the ground.

Zurich was about to strike again, but Thurgovia reached him and tackled him from behind.

Instead of hitting Poland, his fist spun around and hit Thurgovia squarely on the nose.

Thurgovia fell the bone break as the fist contacted. She was knocked back, onto the ground, nose bleeding and pain mounting.

Zurich seemed to come to his senses.

"T…Thurgovia!"

Thurgovia lay on the ground sobbing.

"Sis'! I am sorry…so sorry"

He went over to her and tried to help her up, but she pushed him away.

"Leave me!"

Thurgovia gathered herself up and went over to pick up Poland.

"What did you do to him?" she asked, tears still streaming down he cheeks, mixing with the rain.

Zurich still stood there, dumbfounded.

"I was giving the foreigner what he deserved. He does not belong here. Sis' I am sorry…I truly am. I did not mean to hit you."

And with that he turned and ran into the shelter and safety of the house. Leaving Thurgovia and Poland standing out in the rain.

* * *

><p>"I do not know about this Poland" Thurgovia was saying in a hushed tone. "I do not think that it is the right thing."<p>

Poland took her hand in his, a gesture of sincerity.

"You, like, total saw what just happened back there. He like, beat you, and me too, and it like, totally hurt."

Thurgovia felt the splint on her nose gingerly.

"But…he did not mean to."

"Thurgovia, you like, totally know what's not true, and anyway, you're like, so not liked here, I've seen enough."

He turned more serious.

"And I've, like, had enough. I'm totally getting out of here."

Thurgovia was astonished.

"Where will you go?"

Poland shrugged.

"Like, I don't know, but I'm totally not staying here."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I like, want you to come with me."

Thurgovia was struck dumb at this proposition.

"Think about it, we could like, start over, you and me."

"But…why me?"

Poland hesitated.

"Because, I like, like you…a lot."

Thurgovia blushed at his words.

"So, are you like, coming with me?"

Thurgovia hesitated.

"Yes"

* * *

><p>Zurich lay in his bed, moaning with regret. Why…why did that have to happen? Alcohol…stupid alcohol. If he had not been drunk he would have known not to try to throw Poland out single-handed.<p>

He would have applied for Poland's removal in written form.

But he had done even worse than that. He had actually punched his sister.

His own sister.

They did not like each other than much, but still, there was no reason for violence, there had never been.

Yet he had broken her nose.

It was an unforgivable act, and he shuddered at what Vater would think of it.

Zurich was roused from his misery by the sound of a slamming door.

_What on earth was that?_

* * *

><p>"Damn it, the wind, like, shut it for me!" Poland cursed.<p>

"Never mind that now, he will be sleeping deeply by this time. Let us just move, okay?"

"Yeah, like let's go." They gathered their bundles about them and set off, into the night.

They walked quickly along the road, trying to get as much distance between them and the farm.

"Like, how far is it to the border?"

"Only a few kilometers to the north, we will take a boat by the lake, and row over."

"Like, to Germany? That's so totally not cool!"

"We will worry about that when we're there. We can reach it before first light."

Just then they hear a voice behind them.

"Thurgovia!"

It was Zurich.

"Oh my gosh! We need to run, like now!"

"It is no use, we will be caught before we get anywhere."

She slowly turned around to face her brother.

Zurich was jogging along the rad towards them.

"Sis'! Stop! Please!"

"What do you want?"

"Sis' I want you to come back. Do not do this!"

"Leave her alone, she wants to like, come with me!"

Zurich ignored him.

"Look sis' I made a mistake, alright? I should not have hit you!"

"And you should not have hit Poland either!"

"I am sorry for that too, but sis' understand me, I am not cut out for this work. I was drunk okay, I miss my house, I miss my lake, I miss my car and my archives. It is hard for me to adjust to this new way of life. And I am sorry that I broke your tractor and plow, but I promise you in future I will do all the work that you tell me, and I will never hit you again, just please come back to me!"

"To you?" she asked, puzzled.

"To us, your siblings, and to Vater!"

Thurgovia's resolve was shattered. She had completely forgotten about Vati. What would he thin if she was suddenly gone? He'd be hurt, after all the things he did for her, and she thanked him by running away?

"Coe one" Poland tugged at her arm "We, should like, go."

Thurgovia stood firm.

"No"

Poland nearly jumped a foot at his reply.

"Eh…what?"

"I am not leaving my family."

"B-but Thurgovia…I thought that we could, like, run away together."

She turned and smiled sadly at him.

"I cannot leave my family Poland, not even for you. I am sorry."

Poland huffed.

"Fine, but I'm like, totally getting out of here. If you want to stay, then stay, whatever."

He ran off along the road.

And I'm like, so taking the boat with me!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Thurgovia and Zurich were left standing several steps apart, in awkward silence.

Then Zurich stretched out his arms, and, before he had time to react, Thurgovia flung herself into them and started sobbing.

"I promise I will ever leave again. IpromiseIpromiseIpromise!"

Zurich gently stroked her black hair, which smelled flowery, as if she had applied scent to it.

"And from now on I vow to be a good brother, always, I promise you."

* * *

><p>A few days later was to find Zurich and Thurgovia working the fields manually, digging out potatoes, and singing at the same time.<p>

((Song 'The Farmer and The Cowman' from _Oklahoma!_))

But the farmer and the banker should be friends.

Oh, the famer and the banker should be friends.

The banker earns money at his ease, the farmer provides his butter and cheese, but

That's no reason why they can't be friends.

Territory folks should stick together,

Territory folks should all be pals.

Bankers dance with farmer's daughters,

Farmers dance with the Bankers' gals.

Thurgovia: I'd like to say a word for the banker; he pays the farmer and does he thank her…

Zurich: …He works for days on end with jist a hooker for a friend.

Thurgovia stopped in mid-tune.

"What?"

Zurich immediately turned scarlet

"Eh…Never mind…"

"What was that?" she demanded.

"Nothing…nothing"

He was saved any further explanation by the appearance of their father.

"VATI!" Thurgovia cried and hugged Switzerland.

Zurich held a respectful distance and shook his father's and when Thurgovia was done.

Switzerland smiled.

"I see that you are getting along perfectly, much better than I thought."

Thurgovia and Zurich exchanged glances.

Yes, well, it was hard at first, but we united and forgot our difference to achieve a common goal; the survival of our confederation." Zurich said.

Switzerland beamed.

"I knew I could count on you."

Switzerland turned to leave again. Before noticing something.

"Say…where is Poland?"

Zurich looked at his feet. Vater would punish him if he found out what had happened, just when he and Thurgovia were getting along so well.

To his surprise, Thurgovia answered the question.

"He ran off. I think that he didn't like the climate too much. He should have been grateful to be here."

Switzerland scowled, and Zurich though that was it, they were busted.

"Mph…I though it was a bad idea to intern him. I will never do such a thing again if it is only met with a lack of gratitude."

Zurich's jaw dropped.

"Well, I bid you two farewell, and a good harvest." Switzerland said as he turned and walked of.

Zurich stared disbelievingly at his sister.

"Why on earth did you not tell on me?"

Thurgovia smiled mischievously.

"I would never betray a Bruder of mine."


	9. Zurich: The Blood Money

**Yeah! My home canton! Finally!**

**So...of all the cantons, Zurich is probably the most famous...or the most notorious, depending on what you look at. It is situated in the north east of Switzerland, close to the German border, south of Schaffhouse, and west of Thurgovia. The canton is most famous for the city itself, a world center of finances, but not the capital as many people think it is, even though the inhabitants of the city would like it to be that way. Zurich is also home to some of the most famous universities on the European continent. What Zurich is also famous for, is banking. There have been several controversies surrounding the business. It is undoubtfully the banks' handling of money that made Switzerland as a whole so rich. The bank secrecy provided an attractive lure for clients, but has come under fire during recent times. The origin of the bank secret also lies in the same period as the origin of the second great controversy, surrounding the probably most sought after commodity in the world.**

**Gold.**

**It is rumored that the Swiss banks willingly bought gold from Hitler to profit from the war. This is not entirely true, as gold was not the only thing traded, coal was too, and the money earned in this trade was necessary to sustain Switzerland. But the origin of the gold is undisputed. Necklaces, rings, tooth fillings, all from enemies of the state, which were executed under the genocidal regime. The profit earned from the trade was therefore blood money.**

**INTRO MUSIC!**

**Hey hey Vater, give me wine!**  
><strong>Hey hey Muetter, hey hey Muetter!<strong>  
><strong>The Gschnätzlets that I ate a long time ago<strong>  
><strong>I can't forget the taste of it!<strong>

**Draw a circle, it's the earth**  
><strong>Draw a circle, it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>Draw a circle it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>My name is Zürich!<strong>

**Draw a circle, it's the earth**  
><strong>Look closely, it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>Or maybe it's the earth?<strong>  
><strong>My name is Zürich!<strong>

**Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush,**  
><strong>A wonderful world can be seen<strong>  
><strong>I am the richest if all you know<strong>  
><strong>Money like hay!<strong>

**"I am supposed to be the capital…not that idiot Bern. I am so much more intelligent after all!"**

**Draw a circle, it's the earth**  
><strong>Draw a circle, it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>Draw a circle it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>My name is Zürich!<strong>

**Draw a circle, it's profit**  
><strong>Buy and sell, it's profit<strong>  
><strong>Saving all up, it's profit<strong>  
><strong>My name is Zürich!<strong>

**Counting bills from dawn till dusk**  
><strong>Makes a recipe for happiness.<strong>  
><strong>Our money can never be faked<strong>  
><strong>Impossible!<strong>

**Hey hey Brüeder, print some more!**  
><strong>Come on Schwöschter, count with me!<strong>  
><strong>We are rich Opa, but don't forget<strong>  
><strong>Hey hey baby, most is mine!<strong>

**Hey hey Muetter!**  
><strong>Hey hey Muetter!<br>The Gschnetzlets that I ate a long time ago**  
><strong>I can't forget the taste of it<strong>

**Zürich!**  
><strong>Zürich!<strong>  
><strong>All your money belongs to me!<strong>

**Draw a circle, it's the earth**  
><strong>Draw a circle, it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>Draw a circle it's the earth<strong>  
><strong>My name is Zürich!<strong>

**Ah, with the single swipe of a paintbrush, a wonderful world can be seen.**  
><strong>For money my father counts on me, I am Zürich!<strong>

**Ah, in this wealthy world is a recipe for happiness**  
><strong>Take some bills and come along! Hetalia!<strong>

* * *

><p>A day like any other, lunchtime<p>

Zurich relaxed into his favorite chair, with a glass of champagne in one hand, and his other tapping impatiently on the white tablecloth in front of him.

He stared out from the terrace of the restaurant onto the lake. HIS lake, and below him the city spread out, HIS city, his alone. The restaurant used to be a castle, the residence for some feudal lord with too much money and power, more than he deserved.

Money had to be earned by hard work, no less.

The summer sun glittered off the surface of the water, sparkling like pure polished diamonds. The climate was mild, so that Zurich was barely hot in his suit. And the location was exclusive; he was the only patron that day. With good reason.

A meal here cost more than most earned in a month. But he could afford it. He was Zurich after all.

He checked his watch, gold of course, with the numerals in platinum. It was large and heavy, very opulent, and the sort of thing that one used to brag. Actually, Zurich had bought it for only that reason.

The hands showed two minutes before twelve, soon it would be lunchtime. Zurich's day was scheduled tightly, but he always took two hours off at noon to eat at his leisure. The reason for his impatiently was that today he was supposed to be eating with his father, Switzerland.

Zurich was not concerned that his father was going to be late, he never was, but he himself always made a point to be five minutes early.

He took another sip of champagne, an exquisite drop, and well worth the price he had paid for it. He of course paid more than just for the drink, in the price included was the whole ambiance, the exclusiveness of the location.

He remembered that just two centuries ago, the scene looked a whole lot different.

He envisioned the city, so clean and proud nowadays, covered in soot, in the black grime, and with chimneys from giant factories looming like huge monoliths over the roofs of the houses, belching black and green smoke day and night.

He remembered all too well the horrible conditions of the works, living in their tiny houses, starving. People dying in droves, life expectancy low, and the whole time the wheels turning on, the engines hissing.

Of course, he had never been part of that world, he had been the one wearing the black suit and top hat, checking his pocket watch to make sure they were all producing on schedule, and whacking workers with his cane when they showed signs of lagging behind.

He had laid the rails which made transport so easy, that connected north and south, east an west, he had made sure that the trains had run on time, it was all him that was until his father transferred the business over to the government. A perfect way to ruin a business.

He could not blame his father for doing it, it was his job to make sure that everyone got equal opportunities, but he remembered how he had hated his father for taking the business away from him at first.

Now he realized his mistake, even though he was not going to admit it, and in any case, he had found other far more lucrative opportunities to earn money than industry.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Zürich! There you are!"

Zurich looked up to see his father walking towards him. He sighed. Switzerland had not dropped his green uniform, even though the invitation Zurich had sent him clearly requested formal clothing.

He rose from his chair.

"Vater, I am so pleased that you came."

"I thank you for the invitation mein Sohn."

They shook hands.

It was a rather stiff gesture for a father to son relationship, but it was what they had agreed on, they were both professionals after all, almost all the time.

"Please" Zurich gestured at the seat opposite to him, and Switzerland sat down.

Zurich checked his watch again. Exactly twelve.

"I see that you are punctual as always."

Switzerland raised an eyebrow at his son.

"Did you happen to expect something else?"

"No, of course not. There is also the matter of your attire. I thought I wrote on the memo that it was a formal occasion?"

"Indeed you did. Nothing can possibly be more formal than a uniform."

Zurich sighed. He and his father had different definitions of the word formality.

For Zurich it meant a polite smile, a trusting handshake, soothing words and business suits.

For Switzerland it was saluting, standing at attention with the feet in forty-five degree angles, giving and following orders without hesitation, and a clean, crease-free uniform.

Switzerland took the beret from his head and set it on the table in front of him.

"So, what do you wish to discuss with me?"

"A few recent matters, that is all. I feel that we need to clarify some issues so that I may proceed with my line of work with the knowing that what I am doing is sanctioned by you."

"I see."

"But first, would you like to have anything for lunch. Vater? The chefs here are highly skilled."

"No, thank you, I have had breakfast this morning."

"As you wish Vater."

A waiter came and put a dish in front of Zurich, then filling his glass up with a bottle of champagne up once more, before disappearing again.

Zurich picked up the knife and fork, and started to eat, as formally as ever. Switzerland looked interestedly at the plate.

"Züri-Gschnätzlets? That is fairly common dish. I know it is your favorite, but I would have not expected it to be served here."

'**Züri-Gschnätzlets' in English 'sliced meat Zurich style' is a very popular Swiss dish. The recipe calls for veal, white wine, onions, champignons, cream and spices. **

**It's usually served along with röschti, pasta, rice or mashed potatoes. If you ever have the opportunity I suggest you try it, or even attempt to cook it yourself.**

Zurich swallowed the piece of meat in his mouth.

"Here they serve me whatever I wish. Besides, it is not a common dish when the meat happens to be Kobe-veal, and the sauce contains truffles and the white wine is-"

"Alright, I understand. It sounds like you took a look at the recipe and thought 'how can I make this more expensive?'"

Zurich was silent. In fact, that had been exactly what he had done.

Switzerland seemed to know, but he passed on commenting the dish any further.

"Anyway, I came here because you wanted to talk, not because I wanted to watch you eat."

"Of course. It is just that this whole business with people hiding money in our banks…there have been rumors going around that you were going to give the bosses of the countries where these people are from the list of clients and what they own."

"Let me clear this up for you, once and for all. I have no intention of giving Germany, America, or any of the others any information regarding our clients. That would ruin the business that we have built up over centuries, and that put us where we are today."

Zurich nodded. His worries were gone, and he felt foolish that he had ever though that Switzerland was going to do anything else.

Switzerland took the bottle of champagne and poured himself a glass as well, sniffing it, then swirling the contents around.

"After all, they have no idea what they are talking about. They assume that we do this just to attract clients. That is the modern reason, and people happen to like that. But of course there is a historical reason behind it, one that they do not understand."

Zurich nodded. His father was about to go into a rant about how they had protected people's valuables and how ungrateful it was to suggest any malice behind it. Zurich sipped at his glass.

"We saved people lives with that system, and we never dealt with Germany!"

Zurich felt a flush creeping up his neck and hoped that his father wouldn't notice. That last statement wasn't entirely true…

* * *

><p>Zurich stood at the window, looking over the street. He saw cars rumbling by, and pedestrians passing the lower floor of the bank<p>

He was looking for a very special visitor, a tall man with a large coat, blond hair, blue eyes, and a suitcase, accompanied by another man, almost as tall, grey hair, red eyes, dressed in a similar fashion.

He was nervous and excited at the same time, for this was a deal that was going to be very profitable indeed.

He was the one who had all the cards this time. The two were desperate, and he was the only one who could help them. He knew it, and they knew it.

A black car pulled up, and Zurich strained his eyes. A man got out the front, and opened the back doors. Two people got out.

From this angle Zurich couldn't see their faces, and their heads were covered in hats. They took one look around, then entered the building below.

Could it be them? Zurich seated himself at the desk, preparing to meet them. Then he got up and faced the window again. He figured that would make for a more impressive first impression, and I business, that was all that counted.

There was a knock on the door to his office.

"Ja?" Zurich called out.

A young woman, his secretary looked in.

"Uhm…I'm sorry to bother you sir, but there are two men here who say that they have business with you, although I have not found any note regarding their appointment. Their names are-"

"Admit them. I have time. Do not let anyone disturb us."

"Yes sir."

The secretary opened the door and two men entered. The woman closed it behind them again.

The two stood awkwardly, facing him. Zurich could feel their stares on his back.

He turned around.

"Wilkommen. Please, sit."

The two sat, both still holding on tightly to their briefcases.

"So, Germany, Prussia, why is it that I am supposed to take time off to talk with you? Normally I would not even talk with you after all the things that you have done. How is the war going? Which country do you want to conquer next? If the answer is my father, then you will be in deep trouble. But you said that you had an offer to make, and because I do not want to be rude, I will give you…thirty seconds, starting now."

"Vell…look…ze var is gong great, but ve need money, ja?"

"Yes yes, go on, twenty-five."

"But ve do not have ze money to keep on going zis vay, even alzough ve did all ve could."

"The awesome me needs marks to keep on kicking ass on ze eastern front! Kesesesese!"

"Zere is one possibility how ve could get money…and zat is srough you."

"Ten"

"Zat's vhy ve've come to propose a trade." Germany lugged a briefcase on the table, opened the clasps and then the lid.

"Time is u-"

Germany turned the case towards Zurich. What he saw there almost made his heart stop. Three gold bars. Pure gold, shining. Zurich took out his glasses with a shaking hand and looked closer. He put out his hands, and lifted one of the out of the case.

Now he knew what the cases had looked so heavy. There was no doubt about it. I was shiny; it was precious, 999.9 grams. It was only marred in its beauty by the swastika, signifying it as being smelted in a German foundry.

Zurich knew that this was not Germany's gold. Not really anyway. Zurich, although a banker, was also responsible for the intelligence and counter intelligence in these troubled times, and he had very good connections to the underground.

He heard things that were not known among normal people. His sources had told him what exactly Germany was doing. Tales of genocide, trainloads of people, men, woman and children carted off to work camps. What happened there he did not know exactly.

Some said that they were forced to build war machines for Germany, others said that they were sent there to die. He heard of firing squads, and worse of gas chambers, where the exhausted fumes of a truck were pumped into an airtight room.

There was no doubt that the gold came form those people, whether it had been in the form of rings or candelabras. This gold belonged to the dead, the murdered.

"And…vat do you sink?" Germany asked, ad expectant look in his eyes.

Zurich placed the bar gently between its two twins and shut the briefcase.

"You know that those six you have will not get you anywhere right?"

Germany smiled.

"Ve have far more zan just zose."

Zurich couldn't keep his cool anymore. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow.

"How much more are we talking about?"

"As much as you want. So, do we have an agreement?"

"I think that we could discuss this issue further."

* * *

><p>It was night, few people were around anymore, and this was necessary for Zurich to conduct his business. It was the same room where he and the two Germans had met for the first time. There had followed many meetings, all unscheduled. Zurich didn't want this to go on record.<p>

He did not need has father to know this.

And after all, hat he did was highly beneficial for the whole confederation, not only for him, even though that was the only thing he cared about.

They had bargained the price, although bargained was not the right word for it. Zurich had told them his price, and they had agreed. Zurich smiled to himself. They really were desperate if they were willing to give him that much for he price he set.

They were fools really, the both of them.

He heard a knock.

"Herein!" he called out.

A whole group of men entered, all with briefcases. He had an equal amount sitting on his side of the desk.

Germany approached him.

"Do you have ze money?"

"I do, but I first want to see the wares."

Germany nodded at the men, and they went and stacked the cases on Zurich's desk.

Zurich opened the top one, and was pleased to find three more bars of gold. He closed the lid again.

"Everything seems to be in order."

"Now ze money" Germany commanded.

Zurich ignored the imperative tone.

"Very well."

He lifted up a case, and laid it on the table.

Germany grabbed it and opened it up impatiently. His relaxed once he saw the contents, several stacks of 100 Franc bills.

"Gut."

Zurich handed over the rest of the money, trying to suppress a grin.

"It is all yours." he told Germany

The tall man nodded.

"Danke. Ve can use zis vell."

"I believe so. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

_And ripping you off while doing so._

"Maybe ve can come into contact again. I am sure zat a partnership vould be good for both of us."

"We shall see. Goodbye to you."

"Auf Wiedersehen."

They left.

Zurich sank into his chair and breathed deeply. He opened the top case and took out a gold bar, turning it over in his hands.

What did it matter where it came from? Business was business after all. And even if people had to die for this, what did it matter to him? As long as he profited, he had no care what happened to others.

* * *

><p>"Zürich. Zürich!"<p>

"Huh?" Zurich shook his head "What happened?"

"You were day-dreaming mein Sohn."

"Ah…yes I was."

Switzerland looked at him shrewdly.

"What were you thinking about?"

Zurich cast around for a good lie.

"I was just thinking about the idiots who think that they have the right to look into out files."

"Ah, yes. Never mind them. You will be able to go about your business as usual."

"I know, thank you."

Switzerland smiled kindly at him.

"It is my duty after all."

* * *

><p>A while later Zurich headed into his bank. He had one clear destination.<p>

He called the elevator, and s he entered, he took about a key form his pocket, inserting it into a slot underneath the panel where the floor could be chosen.

The doors closed, and instead of moving up, the cabin moved, barely noticeable, downwards into the earth.

The doors opened and Zurich stepped into an antechamber, with a big vault door at one end. He strode up to it, and pressed his hand on a screen mounted on the wall.

There was a hiss, and the hidden bolts slid back inside the door. It swung outward on great hinges, giving the vault free.

Zurich stepped inside, reaching for a light switch he knew was on the inside right ne to the door.

A lone column of light appeared nearby, illuminating a pedestal in the darkness of the vault.

Zurich approached it carefully, respectfully.

He stood in front of it, and just stared. It was a gold bar, 999,9 grams, with the insignia and name of his bank engraved in the surface.

Then other lights began to switch on, illuminating more and more of the cavernous vault, revealing stacks upon stacks of geometrically arranged ingots. The light shone off them, illuminating Zurich, turning his midnight blue suit into a golden yellow.

He smiled at the sight.

"All mine"

**I have to add that this is hardly a realistic story. I played with the stereotype that many foreigners have of Zurich and took it as a fact, rather than explaining that it's not true, which of course it isn't by definition. I hardly think that any of the businessmen who dealt with the German government knew about the holocaust. They may have been out for profit, but not willing to go over lives to get it. Besides, during that time it was vitally important to appease Germany to guarantee our own survival. So in a way, there was never any choice involved.**


	10. Berne: The Libya Affair

**Berne is a canton in northwestern Switzerland, but having the second largest area out of all cantons, it stretches in a south-eastern direction. It lies on the language border between the French and the German speaking parts of Switzerland. The most interesting feature of Berne is the city of Berne itself, the capital of Switzerland, with roughly 125 thousand inhabitants the third largest Swiss city. Being that capital, all government buildings are located there, such as the Bundeshaus and the Swiss National Bank, which is in charge of printing, distributing and stabilizing the Swiss Franc.**

**That's some info about the canton itself.**

**Now that the old regime in Libya has fallen I can feel free to write about it. In July 2008, former Libyan dictator Gadhafi's son Hannibal was arrested in the city of Geneva under the charges of abusing the staff of the hotel they stayed at. Hannibal and his wife were arrested by the Genevan police, tried before court, and found guilty of light injury and threats to the staff. The next day they were freed against a caution of a total of 500'000 Francs.**

**This enraged the Libyan leader. He halted all oil exports to Switzerland, refused Swiss planes to land or even fly through Libyan airspace, and gravest of all, arrested two Swiss citizens, Max Göldi and Rachid Hamdani, who were in Libya at the time. This was the beginning of the diplomatic disaster that the Swiss media dubbed 'The Libya Affair'.**

* * *

><p>He stepped off the plane and was immediately hit by a blast of hot, dry air and shielded his eyes from the blazing sun. He was not pleased with the current situation, it was most volatile.<p>

As his eyes adjusted the first thing that caught his eyes was a desert metropolis and the ocean in the distance.

He immediately began to sweat, which was no wonder, since he was dressed in a black business suit. His red tie felt as if it grew tighter around his neck by the second. All for the sake of diplomacy.

He took a deep breath, tasting salt and sand on his tongue, and immediately wished he hadn't, for his throat immediately begun to dry out.

He descended the staircase from the jet. It was a private machine, a vessel of diplomacy. It was old, and was sure not to make the impression he wanted, that he was someone with power. First impressions were always what one was measured by among statesmen.

He was Berne. His father's capital canton and therefore responsible for politics, including foreign relations, and he was here in Libya in order to negotiate on behalf of two of his father's citizens.

There was already a welcoming committee, a whole group. The most notable person was a man in white military uniform, but in Berne's view he looked more like the captain of a cruise ship. He also wore sunglasses.

This was the colonel, Libya's boss, and the one whom Berne had travelled all the way to meet with.

Next to him stood a disheveled looking man in long robes, Libya. Contrary to his boss, he did not stare straight at the new arrival, but down at his sandals. He was clearly ashamed of the situation, and had every right to be.

The rest of the people were all entourage, servants that carried a tarp to shade their leader, and soldiers to guarantee security.

Berne reached the pair of them and stretched out his hand to the colonel.

"Greetings. I am honored that you personally came to receive me. I am sure that our talks will prove most fruitful."

Lies, all lies. His polite smile hid the loathing he had for this man.

The colonel smiled and shook his hand, then answered in broken English.

"We will see."

He gestured behind him to a waiting limousine.

"I think that we should continue our conversation somewhere else. The climate must be too warm for you."

Berne, who resisted taking out his handkerchief to wipe his brow responded calmly.

"That would be most welcome indeed."

The colonel lead the way to his luxury car, but Berne hesitated. Libya gave him a sad look, which said 'I'm sorry' in a thousand different ways.

Berne took a deep breath and followed the colonel.

* * *

><p>The colonel's palace in the capital city was huge. Such a building for only one person. There were even swimming pools outside. It may have been a different culture, but Berne did not approve.<p>

His bosses would never construct a residence like this. They would not be able to, since they hardly had enough money for a project this size.

Of course, the colonel's funds were almost unlimited. He was a dictator, and he did whatever he liked. Bosses were supposed to listen to their nations. He commanded Libya around.

Berne pitied the African nation. He was fortunate enough to live in a union that was directly democratic. Some even said that his father had achieved the peak of democracy with his system.

And Libya had to suffer under the yoke of a tyrant.

He leant against a cool stone wall in the shade. It did not matter whether he was inside or outside, the temperatures were more or less the same. At least out here there was some wind.

He was just finished discussing the matters of the two hostages, and he was finally convinced that the colonel had lost his mind.

This was his idea of getting back at them? At his father? Kidnapping two innocent tourists? No, there was no point in arguing.

He had tried, for hours. He had a duty, he had been sent to negotiate their release, if possible. Even against a payment. But dictators he knew were unreasonable, there was no hope.

He heard the echoes of wooden soles on the stone floor, and turned his head to see Libya himself approaching.

He was carrying a bottle of water.

Berne could see the water condensing on the plastic. Tiny droplets of moisture from the air.

Libya stopped a short distance from him, and shuffled his feet nervously.

"Can we talk?"

Berne looked rather puzzled at the question.

"Of course."

"Listen…I'm so terribly sorry about this, I really am. Want something to drink?"

He offered the bottle.

Berne took it from him.

"I thank you for the refreshment. It is most welcome."

There was a clear codex he needed to follow in a conversation. Politeness was constant. Compliments a must. Words had to be chosen carefully.

His father may have been one to speak his mind, but for him that would have been a very unfortunate thing to do. He had to pack his meaning into a carefully constructed phrase so that his true intent was discernable, but one was distracted by all the formalities.

It was a mind game.

His brothers teased him for being slow, and he was, he readily admitted I, but not in mind. He was relaxed, but not in his mind. He needed to posses an analytical mind, as to master the art of diplomacy.

To start off, remark upon the scenery.

"I have to say that this is quite a sight. This is my first time here and I am amazed by what I see."

Libya looked mournfully at the skyline, the haze that hovered above the flat rooftops of the city.

"It's nothing."

"I see that your efforts in constructing the capital were great. And not only that, you are rather significant, especially to the European continent. "

"I guess."

Apparently not the talker.

"How did the meeting go?"

Straight to the point then. Very well.

"It leaves room for improvement, but I do have faith, that if we were to sit down several more times, your boss and I could reach some sort of agreement."

"Not too good huh?"

Also not much of a diplomat either.

"I am afraid not. He is quite stubborn."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened, it's all my fault."

"How so? I do not see an way you could have stopped him from taking the hostages."

Libya shook his head.

"No like that. I could have stopped all of it if I had just not let him to power."

"You were in a bad situation back then. Sometimes making choices is unavoidable, even if they turn out to be the wrong ones."

"I wish there was something I could do…"

"I am afraid not. Leave it to me, I will make sure that there will be no escalation of the situation."

"That's not going to work. He already made his mind up, and it doesn't look good for you."

"And why is that?"

"He has prepared several speeches, the words of a madman. In one he will declare the jihad against your father."

"Ridiculous. No one will heed him. Vater will most likely ignore that."

"And he mentions dividing you up among your neighbors."

"Then he is truly mad. No one would dare consider doing that. This will prove even more that he is not to be taken seriously."

He chuckled slightly.

Libya looked at him suspiciously.

"What's there to laugh about? He's unpredictable; he's a danger to all of you, so what's so funny?"

"Well, I was just imagining what Vater's reaction would be to the statement that we would be divided up among our neighbors."

"And why?"

"He would get very agitated, and suggest that you should be divided up among us instead."

Libya looked glum.

"I would rather be. I mean, how bad can that be? Not worse then now. Your bosses at least give a damn what you think."

"That they do."

"Someday I hope that I can enjoy the same freedom as you."

"I am afraid that with the way thins are at this point, you will have to wait until your boss deceases, at the very least. If you are unlucky, he will start a dynasty. I think that is actually very likely."

"I can't wait that long…" Libya muttered darkly.

"You will have to."

Libya rounded on the canton.

"I hear you of all people saying that!"

"What on earth do you mean?" Berne asked rather annoyed.

"Don't deny to me how you came to be independent! I read up on your father's history! You stood up against your tyrants, an you overthrew them successfully!"

Berne waved his hands dismissively.

"Those were different times, Libya. Nowadays it would not be that easy."

"If the whole populace stood up, if they all said no to my boss, he would have no other option but to resign."

"That would not be very intelligent. My Vater and siblings, we had nothing to lose and everything to gain, much in contrast to you."

"Who says that I can't do the job just as well? I can!"

"Yes, yes, whatever you say."

Libya spoke out of anger. There was sure to be unrest among the population, but that would die down soon enough. The colonel, as disagreeable as a person as he might have been, did many things for Libya.

The city in front of his eyes was supplied with water by a huge pipeline, which stretched from the coast into the desert t tap into vast reveres of underground water. This project was called into life by the colonel.

The same was with the oil industry, which was Libya's main source of income.

"I'll show you! I'll show him! I'll stand up and fight!"

Berne smiled and walked away. This was getting ridiculous.

"Of course you will."

"You just wait!" Libya shouted after him.

Even though he was slightly amused by what the nation had said, his dismal mood returned immidiately. He had to go back now, go back and face his father.

* * *

><p>Days later, Berne stood in the office of Switzerland's house. His father was seated behind the desk.<p>

"I am sorry" he said, deeply ashamed, his head bowed. He could not look Switzerland in the eyes.

"No reason to be. Libya's boss is a madman, there was no point negetioating with him anyway, but we had to try, and you performed your duty admirably.

Berne shook his head.

"Whatever you say Vater, it does not change my opinion on the fact that I failed to ensure the protection of our citizens."

"There was nothing to be done. The only thing you will have to fear now is the embarassment of your negotiations. Your brothers and sisters will not take these news likely."

At that moment, Berne wished he could become one with the rug on the floor.

Switzerland stood up and turned to face the window, grinding his teeth.

"Libya is a coward who lets himself be driven under the yoke. I hope the day comes when his boss gets what he deserves."

He turned to face Berne once again.

"He will pay for what he has done! Mark my words!"

Berne looked up shocked.

"But Vater, surely you will not declare war?"

"No, that was not my intention. You are the expert in this field. Tell me, will the situation resolve itself?"

"The near east and north Africa are unstable. When other nations hear of our plight they will exert political pressure on Libya. Sooner or later he must yield."

"Very well then, we shall wait. Anything else?"

Berne thought of Libya's promises to start a revolution.

"No" he said flatly.

There was not a chance in the world that Libya was going to rise up and rebell against his boss, no matter what kind of a monster he was.


End file.
